By that sin fell the angel
by jestervalaia
Summary: He's a local boy, but she isn't. She needs a bolt hole and doesn't know who else to turn to other than him. How long can he keep her safe and keep the past hidden? Will she break her unwritten rule and willingly let someone in to her bed, mind and heart?
1. Aspiring to be angels men rebel Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. Only Grainne is my creation._

_A/N: I don't normally write three different fics at once whilst job hunting, so forgive me if I don't update every quickly_

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"Grainne...you out there?"

Bastard came after me – always did. Didn't want his little princess running off on him. She knew too much – he'd raised her to be another of his chapter and she'd told him where to stuff it the night he'd walked in on her with that outlaw. She didn't owe nothing to the hells angels. They shot themselves in the foot with this wild child – trying to control her when it was better to let her loose. If they'd gone with the latter, they would've got her back one day but no more. No – Grainne was on her own these days and there was no point calling her that any more. She didn't answer to the name Grainne.

And why the hell was I thinking in third person? God, I needed to get my head sorted out. I didn't know when or where I'd stop, but once they were no longer on my tail I'd stop. Damn Pagan's weren't much better. Still, I'd always preferred a Triumph to a Harley – not as nice to look at, but I found that I got on with them better. Not everyone did, but I had them figured out quicker, plus British quality over American any day – my opinion, I'm entitled to one, aren't I? Well, I did ride a triumph until the birthday just gone. See, I'd always preferred to race my bikes, so daddy dearest went out and brought me a Yamaha YZR-M1. I _could_ out-run those searching for me and leave them for dust...but where's the fun in that? Then again – I was starting to run low on cash...oh, I had my means of getting what I needed but I wasn't in the mood for degrading myself. I needed a bolt hole and that's where I was headed. See, my idiot of a cousin was a prospect for a one-percenter MC somewhere in the middle of Cali. I was another 20 miles from Oakland and there was another 50 miles after that to get to this town Kip had been talking about. I could make it there in less than half an hour, but I'd get stuck with some dumb ass fine that I couldn't afford.

"Grainne bitch. Get you skinny, lily white ass back here now and maybe I won't beat your lame excuse for a skin into a coma"

Oh that was it. No one threatened me – screw the fine, I needed to get out of here. If they found me now then I was dead. I had not made it this far just to get dragged back to New York. Besides, there was nothing for me there except more beatings and more abuse. I was not going to stay subservient to a group of aging, obese bikers who couldn't score else where. Shit man, this was my chance – y'know? How could I pass it up when it was this damn close? They were still a fair distance off from where I was and wouldn't hear me. Fumbling for my cell, I knew I had to call Kip and get my ass down to him...needed to lose the cut as well – only wearing it because I had nothing else. Pulling the cell out and casting the cut to one side, I searched for Kip's name whilst keeping an eye out for those hunting me.

"Hey Grainne, I-"

"Shut it, I'm on slicks and about 70 miles away. I'm stitching a line. Be ready for me. This ain't no swoop Kip"

Sliding the cell down and into a pocket, the rev of the engine gave me away and I waited for them to get close enough to think they'd caught me before slipping out of their grip. The wind was burning cold tonight and it was killing me – as was the exhaustion. But Kip wasn't that far off, fingers crossed he wasn't in church – unlikely, it was almost midnight and from the background noise, this club has one very interesting concept of church. I didn't take notice of what was going on around me – the scenery faded away and I was running on instinct by now. I had this weird connection to my cousin. We just seemed to be able to find each other no matter what. I had to stop thinking about what was behind me and concentrate on not getting hit by a cage. I was usually really good on the roads, but these Cali natives drive differently – not as predictable as the New Yorkers. I wasn't sure how long I'd been going for – maybe just under an hour when some asshole pulls me over. I mean, can you believe it? God, I was going maybe 5 miles over the speed limit and I get pulled but cagers can go 20 or 30 over and let off. Jesus, I thought walking out was meant to be god Karma for me but it'd been nothing but trouble so far. Maybe it was worth getting used if it meant I didn't get no shit from the highway pigs. Most people didn't seem to understand the phrase pigs – something I'd picked up from my mama – gorgeous English bird – a cop really...but cop struck me as giving them too much respect. They didn't deserve it.

"Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Does it matter? You'd not pull a cager for being couple of miles over, but because I'm on a bike it's different"

"No – bikers get treated well in Charming. Now, as I was saying-"

"I'm in Charming?"

"Yes...as for the-"

"I'm looking for Kip Epps...know where I can find him?"

"Now look here miss, before I let you go I need to know-"

"Do you know him or not?"

"Well, yes. I would say I know the all the Sons. You'd do better to call him half-sack though"

"Thank-you. Look, I swear I'll come and see you tomorrow...just right now I have a group of Hells Angels on my ass and need to get this bike stashed. I don't think you want that kind of trouble so where can I find him?"

"Teller-Morrow garage, but they're in-"

"Church? No worries. I just need the bike out of sight and I usually take priority. Who are you, so I know who to ask for"

"Deputy police chief David Hale"

"Thank-you"

Worked every time. Bat your pretty eyes and have no intention of reporting in. Caught them hook line and sinker every single time. Now, as for this garage...come on little cousin...where the hell are you? Garage shouldn't be too hard to spot. Aw, to hell with it – worth ringing him again and letting him figure out where I am, needed to be fast though, those assholes could be on my tail at any moment.


	2. We make war to live in peace

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. Only Grainne is my creation._

_A/N: A huge thank-you to everyone who has added this to their story alerts, favourited it or reviewed. I would love a few more reviews from this chapter and I swear, after this chapter I'll start to pick things up a little_

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Morning broke and it hurt – like a kick in the teeth. An immediate shot of agony followed by a dull thudding ache that didn't ease up. Hangover – I didn't remember drinking, but maybe I had. By the end of my journey I'd been so tired that I didn't recall much. There was a blanket chucked over me – not that I needed one it was that warm – it vaguely smelt of tobacco smoke and wood polish. Where had it been stored? No trace of damp in it, so it was dried properly...oh, I don't know. No-one was hanging around to wait for me to wake up...should I have suspected such? No. Why would anyone be waiting for me? Maybe they were off on a job...I didn't remember much from what he had said that he did for the club. It was stupid and he knew what would happen if any ever found out, but he knew he could trust me to keep my mouth shut. I'd been raised in this world, but my heart had never been with my fathers chapter, or gang for that matter. I didn't like the whole 99% attitude wife number three was bringing in. In some sick and twisted manner, I enjoyed the rush of the raids, the runs, meting out punishments for rats was a real high. Most of all, I loved being trashed with the boys. But trophy wife had spent the last year trying to get me to turn into some sweet and innocent lady of society. Sickening thing was that she was winning them over – my brothers, uncles, cousins...even my father was cutting back and talking about going straight. She'd threatened the stability of the entire chapter and I wouldn't stand for it. I'd made some noise, scared her off for a few months and put things right.

When she came back from her visit and saw just what her darling step-daughter had done she got nasty. Spiking my drinks with straight liquor, planting meth on me (don't know where she got it from), almost stalking me...woman couldn't take that my father preferred his own flesh and blood to her. Then she started abusing me – stupid things at first. Snide comments, tripping me up, putting me down. Then she got serious. She'd threaten to cut me into little pieces if I didn't start playing the good little girl, started putting shit in my drinks so I'd only get flashbacks of what she'd have the wasted club members to do me, she'd gone as far as cutting the brake lines on the car I used to own. I refused to go near one after that. Bikes are easier to protect.

So if she was such a witch, why am I the one running? Well, she'd convinced that club that I was mentally unstable. Delusional even. That my accusations were the rantings of an insane teenager overcome by a belated, bound-up grief over my mothers passing. I was dangerous to both myself and those around me and that I needed to go away for a while. To an asylum. So that some professional could figure out what to do with me. I wasn't having any of that. So naturally, I struck out at her, and at my father for believing her. I'd jump from bed to bed; Pagans, Bandidos, Outlaws, Angels...I didn't give a damn. I'd granted so many sets of wings I earned my right to be called a whore, after all – it's all I was. Some dumb-ass, suicidal, insane whore who didn't know her own self-worth and couldn't be trusted to be let out of sight.

"Grey?"

"Kip? That you?"

"Hey girl – thought I heard someone shuffling around out here"

"My bike?"

"Safe...but the spark plugs are near done and wheels are worn...girl, you know how to abuse a bike"

"Yeah, told you I was runnin' on slicks...any trouble?"

"No – a bunch passed through earlier. You lucky you came at the time you did...no-one seen you Grainne. Bikes outta sight. We're not expecting any trouble"

"He tried calling you?"

"No honey. He's been through and said to ring him if I saw you – but you'd never come to Charming, you're too bright for that"

"What do the rest of the club know?"

"Nothing – they think you're an old school friend and fellow vet. No worries Grey"

"Can't keep calling me Grey, they'll catch on"

"What about Pride...s'what family used to call you when we were younger"

"Umm...no, not safe. Need something that isn't linked back to family"

"Celtica...personal name for you. Always did remind me of those Celtic warrior women – all braids and nasty temper with a keen eye to match theirs. Not been a public name for you ever. Try to keep it to myself"

"And everything else?"

"We'll figure it out as we go along. Basics – raised in New York, trained together but an old deep tissue injury stopped you going any further. Lower back, pelvis and upper thighs, came off a bike at high speeds, six months in an ICU unit. You went back home and back to racing. Lost contact when I went off on tour. No family alive. Parents died in a car accident which is why you don't do cars, lets say a year ago, named Bob and Jane. Only child of only children. Grandparents live somewhere on the east coast, but you have little or no contact with them so you couldn't be sure. Clara and Noel are Jane's parents. Elizabeth and Joseph are Bob's parents. You had a horse when you were growing up named East Coast Smoker, but you called her Smoke, Grey Barb. You haven't told me anything else – nothing else worth talking about. Oh, you've just come out of a long term relationship. Bastard, called James, was cheating on you with a younger blonde who didn't have scars. We all good with that?"

"Yeah...but what scars?"

"No-ones ever gonna see where the scars are meant to be so no worries"

"Ahh...gotcha"

"Right, I'm gonna introduce you to Gemma and Clay – Juice and Tig are hanging around. Look out for Tig, he don't care what he gets laid by...don't even care if its got a pulse, so long as there's a hole. Bobby might be around – you'd like him. I warn you though, Gemma and you – I can see you clashing"

"Whys that?"

"You're both big personalities, you're both attractive women and neither of you are willing to give an inch"

"Are you, Kip Epps, calling me stubborn?"

"Why Celtica, I believe I maybe. C'mon – they'll all be wondering where the hell I've got to – meant to be working today and your bike is murder, we normally work on cars or Harley's, racing is a different ball game all together"

"I can deal with the bike, or at least tell you what to do"

"I don't think Clay or Tig would be to happy with having a woman in the garage...even if you do know what you're doing"

Hands up in surrender, I toyed with the braids that reminded my cousin...sorry, friend so much of the people I was named after. I couldn't have them hanging in my face if I was to be aware of what was going on around me, so they were tied back and kept out of my line of sight for the rest of the day. Yes, they showed the bruising from where I'd tried to hang myself (more like where the wicked step-mother tried to strangle me), but I'd answer that later if the question came up. As for money – what the hell was I meant to do for that? There was the side account I'd been skimming from and had put in to a third account under a different name that I could reach in to, but that wouldn't last forever and I needed to find work fast. Or at least in the next 6 months if I was going to keep daddy darling at bay. I doubted they needed any help in the garage...maybe I could get bar work somewhere, or look further a field to one of the nearby towns or even Oakland – how hard could it be to get a job in a bar or an office? OK, so I didn't have that much experience working behind a desk...but I'm a grafter by nature and a quick learner, so they wouldn't have to worry too much about training me. Besides...how difficult could it be to type a could of words on to a computer screen and pretend to know what you're talking about? With a quiet cough, my attention was brought back to the current place – this was the oh-so famous garage that Kip couldn't stop talking about. To say I had been expecting something more was an understatement – it looked a little run-down, but I'd seen worse. Pale blue and white exterior walls, yellow and red sign, steel roller doors and a number of Harley's sitting on the concrete yard outside. Those surrounding the place all shared the same cut as Kip...well, was it the same? I knew Kip to be Vegan, so leather would be out of the question...but it looked like all the cuts were leather. I'd have to ask him later.

"Hey – anyone here?"

"You're late half-sack"

"Sorry, I had Celtica to see to"

"I told you Gemma would deal with her"

"And scare her off? Not likely. Besides, she wanted to know about her bike"

"I have a voice Kip...but yes, how is my baby?"

"You're baby?"

Rolling my eyes, I ignored the sounds of indignation and went over to the strikingly different bike set to one side. Kneeling by it, I looked over at the one who had questioned the label I had for my bike. He was balding slightly, but no point in making much of a note of that. Most of the men I was around seemed to be going bald. But what hair he had was curly, mid to dark brunette. He was slightly tanned – but that was the sun. Caucasian without a doubt. He was too far away to note he eye colour. See, I was very cold when it came to recalling facts about a person and able to reel them off without really trying.

"Yes. My baby, closest I'll ever have to a real one"

"Well, maybe I can help you there"

"Tig, leave her alone and get back to work. Half-sack, I told you to leave her behind, talk to Jax...I don't know what he wants from you today. Juice, your office will be free now. You, Gemma wants to see you"

Well, courtesy clearly didn't run in this place. He could have said please. Or at least asked my name. Was it all that difficult to do? What was a couple of seconds out of his day to say Celt instead of you? Nothing – but it would have left me with a better impression. My guess was that he was Clay. I couldn't figure out just how people thought of him as attractive – the way he had his jaw reminded me of a less advanced Neanderthal. Maybe even a monkey, but I was guessing his word carried weight around here so it would be the smart move to do as he said. There was an older woman waiting on the concrete outside the main area of the garage. Highlighted hair, not the most pleasant of expressions on her face, but well-dressed for an older woman. Probably married to one of the more prominent member of this little town.

"I guess you're the infamous Celtica then?"

"And I take it that you're Gemma"

Keep it cool and collected. It was the only way to deal with her kind of person. I'd done so often enough with some of my fathers past women. They liked to think they had control – manipulative, calculating, intelligent women. Never underestimate them and never let your guard down. They'll find a weak point and cut you to pieces for it.

"Any idea why we had a procession of Hells Angles run through here last night?"

"No. What gives you the impression that I would know anything?"

"Just that you turned up late last night and prospect went running to you. An hour later they come rolling through looking for someone called Grainne. Name ring a bell?"

"Can't say it does. Sorry"

"No worries...looking for a job?"

"What's the catch?"

"Who says there's a catch?"

"No-one ever gives you anything unless there's something in it for them"

"Maybe you need to start trusting people. I'm guessing you don't have much in the way of money and the bike will need to be paid for"

"I have my sources. I don't need charity"

"I just don't get you"

"Meaning?"

"You ride in here, middle of the night with no apparent source of income and no ID, but with a racing model released a couple of months ago, dressed in the likes of Gucci and Armani and you know Half-sack of all people. You really are a mystery"

"And I'd like to stay that way – I don't like people knowing my business when they have no place"

"And what exactly are you doing for money then?"

"Like I said, I have my sources"

"Legal?"

"Think I would tell you if they weren't?"

"Probably not, but there's nothing like putting in an honest days work"

"My family didn't do honesty, and I've been raised to do the same. From what I've been told you're one-percenters, so I'm sure you can appreciate that much"

"What's Half-sack been saying?"

"Exactly that – you're a one-percenter MC from a little backwater town in Northern Cali"

"And what would you know?"

"I was raised in the saddle – first bike was a Triumph – rode with my father until I was ten. Always have had a thing for them, never did like Harley's. Father wasn't part of the local MC, but had a good relationship with them. Mother tried desperately to protect me. Never did work, probably because I was always closer to him than her. She was a free-spirit hippie and I needed my father's friends to keep me sane"

"She the one that brought you the horse then?"

"Who? Smoke...yeah, she wanted me riding a horse, not a bike. Never did get her own way"

"Celtica your real name then?"

"No, Half-sack's name for me...Romana, in truth"

"Well then Romana...maybe we need to spend some time together, get to know each other – come to the club tonight. Oh, I'd wear something else if I were you, leathers only work on certain people at certain times"

Bitch. I knew what she was insinuating – I was just hoping I didn't look like her when I was her age. I knew there was no way we'd ever get along. We'd maybe be able to be civil, but as hell were we ever going to be close. Maybe she did have a point though – still, how was I meant to change when the closest city was 30 miles out and I had no mode of transport? I hated this feeling of being stranded. I suppose I'd have to live with it for now. There probably was a few places around here where I could get clothes, but I doubt it's what I would wear. Hey, I'm a picky girl with expensive taste – don't judge. My father always made sure I knew how to dress, and which names were worth taking note of. Blame him if you'll blame anyone. However, I did have that spare account which was meant to be for emergencies...but I could find work later. I know, it makes me sound a tad on the lazy side, but I'd rolled into town less than 24 hours ago. I needed to be laying low for a while, keep a low profile so that things could cool off. I'd need to get my hands on some fake ID – I had the card, but nothing photographic. Damn shame. However, the card was enough...now, where could I get a cab around here?

Darling Miss Queen of the bikers was going to regret the way she'd spoken to me and the looks she'd given me. I would not accept that sort of behaviour – even from an elder.


	3. Such as we are made of, such we be

_Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production, cast or creation. Only Grainne, and (as far as I am aware) Pink women are my creation._ _However, Pink Women is based off the bar in Coyote ugly – something else that I own no part of. I do not own any of the songs mentioned – if I did I wouldn't be worrying about where next weeks rent is coming from or looking for a job because lets face it, I'd be loaded and would never have to lift a finger again  
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_A/N: What does a girl have to do to get some reviews around here? I am thankful that people are putting this on their alert lists, however I would love you to review it as well even if you just tell me you think it's a joke and poorly written. I may put the rating up to M in the next few chapters, but it all depends on the reaction I get to this chapter. Also I'll be deciding who to  
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I'd not bothered going to the club that night and had hardly been in Charming over the last week – I'd been in nearby Lodi. Managed to get myself two part time jobs. Tuesday to Friday during the day I worked at one of these uptown restaurants. All very clean and legit in it's dealings, everyone was perfectly turned out, manners were impeccable – dull in a word, but the pay was almost unparalleled by anywhere else in the city. There were just a few bars and clubs that paid far better than this restaurant. Friday to Sunday I spent my nights dancing around on the top of a bar, serving drinks and dealing freebase and helped certain idiots with their speedballing on the side. Some of the girls I worked with offered favours on the side, but I didn't go in for that sort of thing. So, with my income sorted I'd been able to use the savings to both pay off my repair fees and buy a house...not to mention redecorate and renovate the whole place. It'd been a tip when I had brought it, but not any more – the epitome of clean, modern living. The only thing that could be considered out of place was the bike sat on the driveway, but in Charming it didn't seem anything less than average.

As for clothing tonight – well, I'd abandoned the leathers but it was no less distracting and Kips was going to be tempted to play the over-protective cousin again. PRPS Blue denim hotpants. Five pockets; three on the front and two at the back. Belt loops. Intentional raw edging. Christopher Kane black and beige corset top with velvet trims and mesh panels. High waist with a flared panel that sits over the hips. At the moment I was wearing Spada Slipstream Boots, but I did have a pair of Chloé Black bow and crystal shoes in my bag. Margiela fingerless gloves. Of the four items you could see, the value ran into the thousands. Yes, I have expensive taste and an even more expensive lifestyle – everything of worth in this world cost and if I were to expand on my experience I needed the means to do so. However, as Oscar Wilde wrote; experience was of no ethical value. It was merely the name men gave to their mistakes. It seemed strange that I would need money to make mistakes. Honestly, it made me consider again yet another Wilde quote; nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing. Of course, the 1945 version of The picture of Dorian Gray was by far preferable to the newer version, but the book was the original and the original was always the best. Why was I thinking about such a trivial concept when I was overdue to this club I'd been asked to go to over a week ago? Sometimes I confused myself. My thoughts had a habit of becoming disjointed and going off on a tangent whenever I was nervous; the source of my anxiety often got pushed to the back of my mind and petty things pre-occupied my mind.

Killing the engine that had been running underneath me over the last few minutes, I waited for calm to descend again. There were moments where I considered going back to cars – just so I had a few moments silence to recollect my thoughts. I'd either have Chopin or Black Sabbath playing simply to calm my nerves. Though why was I nervous? I knew a handful of people already, it wasn't like I was walking into a room of total strangers. Still, nerves were something I had to fight on a daily basis – I had no real reason and my paranoia was unfounded. I needed to get over it, but it would take time, I admit, I have trust issues and they wouldn't go away, but I was brought up to be suspicious of everyone and everything. Pulling the helmet off, I toyed with my hair in an attempt to tame it – I usually kept my hair in braids for the simple reason that it had a habit of getting very messy, very easily – it wasn't curly, but it wasn't straight either. Right now, it was flying out of control and my line of sight was repeatedly obscured by raven strands fighting to remain in the crosswind that I'd got caught in. Changing the boots to shoes, I took a moment to chain the bike – I knew these people had respect for a bike and were unlikely to take it, but I wasn't willing to risk it. The question remained – what the hell was I meant to do with my bag and helmet?

"Romana?"

Turning around, I spotted one of the security guards I worked with. I had my suspicions about him, but it seemed he had a weakness for the club. He was pretty enough; part Mexican, inherited the black hair and dark eyes, tanned far darker than most people. I saw him as a brother, and he felt the same. That is, I was a sister and little more. Besides, he wasn't inclined to women...well, not entirely he did have his moments but mostly kept to same sex.

"Hey sweetheart...what you doin' around here?"

"Gemma told me to come a week ago...never got round to it, what with work and all"

"Beaver, you work too hard...need somewhere to stash the helmet and boots?"

"Know anywhere?"

"Try my car...just come and ask me for the keys when you want to leave, I may pass out in the back seat. Lookin' good by the way. If you ain't careful you might just be taken for one of the usual girls that hang around here and I know you ain't like that"

"I got friends on my side"

He smiled as I cast my stuff into the back of his car. I'd mentioned Kip to him a couple of times before but he hadn't made the connection until yesterday. Bar was closed today – raid. Thankfully I'd had nothing to deal that night otherwise I'd probably still be stuck in a prison cell somewhere. A noise somewhere distracted me from keeping out of the way of people – someone calling my new name. I'd got used to it that quickly that I was struggling to remember what I had been before that. Hey, when I got into a role it consumed my entire being which is why I was often left behind and kept out of club business back home. There was a slam of a body against mine – sweat, motor oil and beer. It could only be Kip...Half-sack, whatever it was that they called him here.

"I thought you weren't coming"

"Got caught up. Found myself a job, a house and a new wardrobe"

"I see...all in a week?"

"Of course, pay a little extra and you get things done far quicker"

"Where you working then?"

"A bar, Pink Women...mostly just pull pints"

"You a dancer?"

"Occasionally...what's it to you?"

"Aww, c'mon Celtica...Tig's just tryin' to wind you up"

"I know, now...got anything to drink around here? This is as far as I'm aware meant to be a bar and what bar is without alcohol?"

"She's more fun than you made out Half-sack. To the bar we go then"

There was a shout to this individual known as Tig to play nice but Kip was pretty much out of ear shot by that point. The bar was...nondescript. Nothing I wasn't expecting, but not exactly bare. It was OK – pool table, stripper pole, dartboard, bar area, seating areas, a piano of all things. So maybe the piano was a little out of place, but I had seen far more unusual. Then there was the compulsory wall of honour dedicated to something called SAMCRO – I'd ask about that some other time. Stupid, slutty girls were almost falling all over each other and for some reason they found this appealing. Where was the class in this little town? I knew most bikers were just after an easy lay, but who knows what they'd catch from these whores wandering around the place in next to nothing. OK, so my clothing could be more modest but it wasn't like I was virtually naked and I made up for it the rest of the time.

"So, Celtica – how on earth does a pretty thing like you know Half-sack and what are you doing in a little town like Charming?"

"Met him when training – never got deployed. Old tissue injury started to play up. Hadn't had problem from it for over a year...just the occasional twinge but it killed any hope of me serving. We lost contact when he went off on tour and I was sent back to New York to live with my darling parents. Staying with a cousin when I signed up. Half-Sack was the only one I could turn to when I caught my bastard ex in bed with some cheap bottle blonde slut. She didn't have scars, unlike me. Kip's the only guy who never hurt me or stabbed me in the back. Never ground my heart into the dust. Never abandoned me"

"Half-sacks like that. But he has a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time"

"Yeah, I noticed that – he means well, but not the sharpest of tools in the shed. Part of the reason that I love him so much...like a brother of course. I could never see him as anything else"

"Of course not, pretty thing like you could never be interested in half-sack...it's not like he's a complete man"

"And he's not a slimeball either...thanks for the drink though"

Flicking the mass of dark curls over one shoulder, I left him with his jaw on the floor. I had a feeling that he didn't normally get rejected but I was used to his kind. He'd fuck me and leave me before the sun was up. I'd had enough of that lifestyle. Nope – with a sway in my stride, head held high and aware of the covert second looks thrown my way, I couldn't be more content. I was on top of the world and that showed. Hell, I couldn't even stop the little smirk playing over my lips as I found my security guard friend and, none to surprisingly, a couple of the girls I worked with at the club. The only natural blonde and redhead in the room – probably the only females with a natural colour, other than myself. The rest were all a nasty mess of frazzled colours and split-ends. Made me want to take a pair of scissors to their sorry excuse for a mop of hair. Sipping at the drink I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose in distaste – I did not normally drink beer, but I guess it would do. I could always get a few shots later or flirt my way to getting wasted. Fuck knows when I was leaving, maybe in the morning, but for now I needed to kick back and relax. To forget everything that had been going on lately. The whole psychotic step-mother thing had me paranoid, not to mention that I was still watching my back – they'd probably travel back through Charming and take advantage of Kip. Use him in one way or another to get a place to crash – poor guy didn't know how to say no to family. His one weakness...well, not his one but still. Definitely his biggest weakness, still, couldn't help but love him. It was just his nature – family would hate his hippy-like Vegan diet but I thought of it as endearing. I could never do it, I was almost a vegetarian – but it was just Chicken and Fish that I was trying to stop eating. However, it was difficult; I'd virtually been raised on it and it was just a habit...besides, I thought of those particular things as ugly and I had no need of anything less than beautiful in my world. I know it makes me sound shallow, but there are many faces of beauty. Such as the shallow, physical beauty, the deeper, spiritual beauty that lay in every part of all things, the individualistic beauty of human personality and behaviour, the arts, the beauty of stimulated senses; food, drink, sex, touch, scent, taste, sounds. Fish and chickens were dull, lacking in spirit and personality and physically ugly, only the senses found their beauty. Even then it was only the sense of taste that found their true beauty. Maybe it was my upbringing. After all, such as we are made of, such we be. Shakespeare came to mind at the most peculiar of moments.

"Hey Beaver...didn't know you knew the Sons"

"Oh yeah, me and Kip...Half-sack trained together. He got sent to Iraq and I got sent home"

"Feel like introducing me to him?"

"Red...didn't know you went in for the prospects"

"He's kinda cute, in a young way"

"That's so sweet, I get where you're coming from...I think it may be that he's so much younger than them though"

"I hope you like tofu – virtually lives on the stuff"

"He's a vegetarian? That's so adorable"

"Vegan actually – stricter than a vegetarian; stuff like eggs and milk are a big no go. No meat and no by-products"

"That sucks...not as adorable as vegetarians, almost creepy"

"I don't care...know which way he swings?"

"He's very much a straight man...sorry about love"

"No worries – I'll content myself elsewhere"

There was a general rumble of laughter from our little group as the song switched from _Bleed it out _by Linkin Park to _Fake it_ by Seether. There was an excited squeal from one of the two girls and our little group knew what was coming – we'd been told to keep up the practice. New routines needed to be gauged before thrown into the club...since there was a bar here (not with our usual trappings, but a bar nonetheless), it seemed like a fun option. Pushing our drinks into the hands of our security friend and getting dragged over unwillingly, I was pulled up onto the surface. I knew I had to be flushed red – they had more Dutch courage in them than I did which wasn't good, normally I'd had at least three shots before getting up on the bar. I felt so exposed and almost naked in what I was wearing – oh how I wanted to get down, but I knew I wouldn't be allowed down any time soon...well, at least until the end of the song. If I didn't join it then they'd force me to grab the pole off it's current stripper (who wasn't really holding the crowd's attention all that well). I could feel eyes shifting on to us and all I wanted was to disappear – for the earth to swallow me. My embarrassment would be obvious by now – sweeping down my neck and setting fire to my collarbone made all the more clear by the untanned skin of my neck and shoulders. What choice did I have? Besides, it was simple enough – kept for the end of the evening when the last of the patrons were on their last round before going home. Honestly though, it was fairly tame compared to the _Hollywood Whore _routine – none of the suggestive girl-on-girl movement...although, that was always fun. Yes, I have a very wicked streak when I want...maybe I was as delusional and unstable as my step-mother made out. I hadn't considered it, but it seemed to becoming more and more probable.

We did our best without poles, using each other instead. Tig or whatever he was called was still sat at the bar – I did love teasing the player. Winding down to his level, I paused to look him in the eyes; as distant and cold as I expected. No sign of warmth or real affection there. Dead inside and his body was heading that way as well. Only a primal drive remained. A lust for a woman's body – he didn't care whose, just a willing body for an easy lay. There was no passion in him, no passion for any love, just a man driven by a survival instinct. The warmth of legs behind me and arms on my shoulders, sliding down my sides to hips, gripping and pulling them up with the owner of the hands. Rising with the unspoken command of the routine, I left Tig with little more than a press of lips and wink. He tasted of nicotine and alcohol. Leaning into the girl behind me and turning my head to capture them in a second kiss, I closed my eyes – I didn't need to know who I was doing this with. I didn't want to know. It would ruin our professional relationship and haunt me. The less my eye knew what my hand was doing the better.

Looking out over the bar, having stepped away from my partners grasp, I spotted the person who had originally invited me here. Gemma. Miss Queen of the Bikers. She had one of those smiles playing over her face – the sort that made you want to slap her stupid, just to wipe it off her smug face. I knew what she was thinking – I was turning into one of those cheap whores that hung around hoping to get laid. I wasn't like that; never had been, never would be, I was better than that. The music died and without permission, I slipped off the bar and stalked out – had I made such a fool of myself? There was nothing strictly wrong with what I did, it was an income, I wasn't hurting anyone or doing anything illegal (most of the time), I was just dancing, I was never touched or degraded...oh, why was I even trying to justify this to myself? I hated the dancing, the costumes, the grins I got in the restaurant from the bars more upmarket customers. It made me feel cheap and dirty...but I couldn't stop dancing. It was all I had. Well, not all...but it certainly helped. But I needed to act like I loved it – my pride wouldn't allow anything less.

"You OK?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, just wasn't expecting to get dragged up on a bar tonight"

"You didn't look too happy with them...got a light? Think I gave mine to Jax and never got it back"

"Sure...spliff?"

"Yeah...I know, awful and I shouldn't but this is a party, y'know?"

"Yeah...the cost of this is a toke by the way"

Waving the zippo in front of him with a genuine smile for once playing over my face, he simply shrugged his shoulders and lit the white stick-shaped object in his mouth. Blowing the smoke out of his mouth he handed over both the lighter and lit spliff, taking a hit from it I handed it back, savouring the effect and taste for a moment before releasing the smoke and inhaling the pungent smell hanging in the air.

"I never got your name the other day"

"Romana, or Celtica...Juice isn't it?"

"Yeah...guess you have a better memory than me"

"Sorry for taking up your office space. I guess it's the computers in the corner?"

"Yeah, but why talk about work? Feel like getting a drink with me?"

"Sure...but no beer. I'll drink it but I can't stand it"

"Fair enough, if you will"

Offering out his arm, I couldn't help but smile even more – he seemed a little less with it than the others, but he was sweet which made up for it. Taking it, he guided me back into the room and grabbed a cocktail of liquors for me and a beer for himself. Sitting down at the bar, we pretty much talked for that evening, slowly getting more and more drunk lapsing into some dumb-ass conversation about colours and if we'd got it right in the names we'd given them. I was so going to regret drinking so much come morning...but it wasn't that big a deal, it wasn't like anyone was going to be in any state to work come tomorrow.


	4. How long till this goes away?

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. Only Grainne/Romana is my creation._

_A/N: A huge thank-you to __Harley Pendragon, for reviewing my last chapter, and ozlady80, who reviewed my first chapter. I think I'll be holding off another update until I have at least 5 reviews so if you want to read more you'll need to read and review._

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If there was one thing I hated more than anything else, it was hangovers. I only really got them when I'd been drinking anything hops based. Lager, Beer, Julmust and Malta. Thinking about it, there was one thing I hated more than hangovers; and that was waking up in a place I didn't know with the mother of all hangovers, not to mention the sound of someone tapping away on a keyboard. I could kill whoever that was. A groan that I didn't intend to be heard slipped out rather on the loud side and the sound of the keyboard stopped, well paused before continuing. I probably looked a total mess about now. My hair would be a frizzy mass and what make-up I had worn would be smudged beyond recognition. My head felt like someone was ramming a sledgehammer into it it hurt that much – I was never drinking again. However, I said that and someone would offer me a shot to ease the pain and I'd take it – I know, I'm a terrible person. Crucify me why don't you?

"Hey...did I wake you?"

"Huh..yeah, but it's OK, I probably needed to wake up...where'd everyone go?"

"Home already...damn girl, you can sleep"

"Only when I've been drinking...rest of the time anything and everything can wake me up"

"So...hows your head this morning?"

"It's killing me, but I'll live. I think"

"Feel like a hangover cure?"

"What's in it?"

"Don't ask, it's easier that way...come on. Trust me on this one – took a lot of messing around and trials but I figured out a pretty good hangover cure"

"You're sweet Juice"

"Really? Mostly I just get treated like a moron. I don't think I've been called sweet before"

"How could anyone think you're a moron?"

Dear god...was I _flirting_ with someone I met last night? I know we'd gotten on well, but I'd always determined that I would never let myself be like this. It usually only led to one place and I was not planning to go there ever again. Yeah, he was very sweet...kinda cute, in a boyish sorta way. He had a bit of a lost kid smile and didn't seem quiet with it all the time, but I guess that was part of his charm. Whatever he was pouring out didn't seem all that appetising. To be frank, I was convinced I'd rather have the hangover just looking at this 'cure'. It seemed to be very...lumpy and orange. I could smell the tomato from where I was and the surprising part was the shot of vodka he stuck in at the end. The smell was awful and made me want to heave. I'd like to find the porcelain god rather than drink it, but I was guessing that wasn't an option.

"What's in it?"

"Honestly? a bannana, a carrot, a tomato, a shot of vodka, a bit of tobasco and some milk"

"Won't the vodka curdle the milk?"

"Never thought of that – it works though"

"I'll trust you this time, but I swear, if I end up bringing this back up, I'll be aiming for you and not the toilet bowl"

"I understand entirely. Just try it. I'm gonna go back to my work"

Had I scared him? I knew I had a habit of doing that – scaring people that is. But maybe it came with the territory. My teachers had been scared of all the uncles that came to pick me up at the end of the day decked out in leathers and decorated with tatts, in high school, I'd been the kid of a biker and hung around with the metalheads, often beating them black and blue for a lack of anything else to do, I was known to always have some sort of weapon on me – but I was never caught with it, I cut the balls off one guy for bragging about sleeping with an underage girl, scarred another for life after making a couple of racist remarks around me, torched a couple of meth labs. I had a nasty reputation in New York, but it didn't appear to have travelled much out of the area which seemed to be to my benefit. I could only hope it stayed that way. The drink was vile, but it seemed to have helped a bit. The typing didn't seem to be too much of a bother after my moments of quiet. It still felt like someone was beating on my head, but it wasn't so bad any more. If anything it was easier to have some sort of noise than silence. Sliding off the seat and kicking shoes to one side, I crossed the room to the seat I'd been in and lay back down, one leg crossed over the top of the other. Memories from the night before came back in flashes – some conversation about naming colours, a very drunken pool game, sitting out on the bikes talking about the sky and idiot friends, smoking the evening away, drink and shot after drink and shot, slowly slipping deeper and deeper into some sweet, nameless oblivion that I never wanted to leave.

"What were we talking about last night?"

"I don't really remember if I'm honest...I don't intend to drink that much ever again. Aren't you meant to be working?"

"There's not really a lot to do – run a background check or two. It can wait"

"Why do you say that?"

"I have a choice – work, or talk to a highly attractive young woman. Which do you think I'm going to take?"

"Hmm...no real work commitment, easily distracted, maybe a little on the slow side. I wouldn't employ you if you were the last man on earth"

"Is that so? Well, I doubt you'd find anyone like me"

"Why's that then?"

"I'm more comfortable around guns and machines than people, actually I'm a bit of a social retard – always have been. I guess I'm a bit of a nerd deep down"

"You sound like a couple of people I know – they're not nerds. Just selective about who they like to chill with"

"Chill with? That's a new one. I don't get it"

"Picked it up from a girl I know – British chick, very fun. Chill with – what you're doing now. Chill out, relax...like what you're doing now. Sitting, talking, drink in hand"

"Really? Seems like something I should do more of"

"Mmm...now, what was it we were talking about last night? My memory ain't always too good after a heavy nights session"

"Well, as I recall, there was a conversation about colours, family and friends, other random shit...we never finished that pool game though"

"I don't know if I could bring myself to play a pool game right now"

"What else would you like to do?"

"I don't really know...I think I probably need something to distract me though...got a decent hacker program?"

"Maybe...why d'you ask?"

"I know one definite way to have fun...ever felt like hacking into the local station server and changing the news content?"

"You've done that?"

"Couple of times – but it requires top of the line programs to stop us getting caught out"

"What would you put in the news?"

"Something about Hale. I'm not really sure to be honest...any ideas?"

"I might have something...feel like showing me how to do it then?"

"You never tried it before?"

He smiled and shook his head. Needless to say, I was somewhat surprised. I'd been doing it for years. It was about all I could do though – if you asked me to make a spreadsheet, put a machine together, even run a virus scan or something like that you'd get a blank look. I just didn't know how to do anything other than hack certain types of servers. It was a source of annoyance to a number of people but they needed to get over themselves. Leaning over his shoulder, pointing out what he needed to do was frustrating me so much that towards the end I'd taken to sitting in his lap to better access the laptop. Half-sack would probably have a fit if he walked in and others would just assume that there was something going on (although, I can assure that there is nothing).

"Are you sure about this?"

"C'mon – it'll be entertaining"

"You, Jean Carlos Ortiz, are a terrible person"

"That I am...but it will be worth it to see his face when it comes up later"

His one hand was resting on the exposed flesh of my thigh, making me even more aware that I was still in last nights clothing. A slight look of embarrassment crossed both our faces and he pulled his hand away as I rose to walk away. I could feel the heat flushing me again – I knew that today people would be able to see the red trailing down my ears, temples, cheeks, neck and on to my shoulders. Why did I blush so easily? Maybe it was California doing it to me – when people weren't used to an environment it could have any range of effects on them. I could blame the weather but I wasn't entirely sure that it was just that...I mean, since when was I ever in this little clothing? Sure New York could be warm...but I was yet to find it as warm as here. That and these were strangers...they weren't the uncles and cousins I'd grown up with. Most of them had wiped my ass when I was too small to do it myself, and those who hadn't were around my age and I'd done the whole splashing around in the pool with them in the nude when we were little enough for it to not matter. They were like family so I was comfortable around them – things were predictable. That and I was usually packing heat or carrying a hunters knife, not that I needed to, so I knew I could defend myself. Here I was without defence and around someone I'd really only talked to last night. I didn't know what he was like. So I was pretty good at profiling someone, but it didn't help when I didn't have the information I needed. I didn't know what he was like and somehow I felt that just watching and listening wouldn't be enough with him.

"Look, if I upset you...sorry"

"No, it's not you – just, stuff going around my head..."

"Feel like talking about it?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine"

I could feel the tears welling and threatening to spill if I didn't leave. It wasn't just the whole being half naked in front of him...there was other shit that his touch had reminded me of. Shit I'd like to forget – shit my step-mother had had done to me by those I'd trusted the most. Sitting down and letting my hair obscure my face, I was aware of him hesitating...like he didn't know what to do. He was probably confused, he would be more used to the wasted whores who hung around just waiting for someone to approach them. Had he ever been around a sober woman other than the club members women? What was it Kip had said they were called? Old ladies...it seemed like such a strange expression to me, then again, I wasn't native so I was allowed to not understand.

"What did he do to you?"

"Who?"

"That bastard ex of yours as you call him. You said he left you for someone blonder...what weren't you telling me?"

"There's nothing to tell. It's nothing. Forget it"

"They may think I'm the club idiot, but I'm not as stupid as they say. You don't want to talk about it now, but it'll eat you up inside and when you're ready to talk I'll be here to listen"

As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew I couldn't keep it away forever. I'd sooner speak to Tig about it though and I think after last night everyone knows how I feel about him. In the end he pissed me off so much I cracked him over the head with the pool cue I was holding before ramming it into his balls and laughing at him rolling around in agony. Yeah, they'd seen a little of the real me last night and I think they had it that I was not the usual type of girl. I hadn't seen him yet, but I'm guessing his pride hurt more than anything else. He'd hate me now...or be even more determined to be the first to get me into bed for a roll. Not happening – at least not with him. There were one of two I'd think about if they propositioned me, but that was still a long way off. Someone had brought my bag in which was a good job because the silence was starting to suffocate me. The only breaker was Juice tapping away on the keyboard in his corner. Maybe he was a bit of a nerd, all hunched over and reading the same section of text over a couple of times to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Switching shoes for boots and walking out, I knew he hadn't looked up he was so caught up in his work; maybe I would have hired him if I had ever got the chance...provided I had kept women out of the room he was working in. That would never happen. I had a feeling that he would sooner die for the club than leave it. Loyalty, intelligence, some degree of patience...maybe a little slow in the social standing, but most who were skilled in the same areas as he weren't naturally social butterflies. I had a feeling he would be a steady ally though, he struck me as some what level headed...at least in comparison to a lot of the other club members. Left me wondering one thing; just what would he be like in bed? I so shouldn't go there, but I usually did. An unbreakable habit really.

Dropping the lock back in the bag and fixing my helmet, I took a moment to gather my thoughts – why the hell had I acted like that? Like some silly high school girl...all blushes and stupid comments. I'd never been like that – even in high school. This town was going to be the end of me, I knew it. If I wasn't insane before I came here then I was certainly headed to crazy town now. Why hadn't Half-sack told me what they were like? What effect a small town could have on a major city girl? Didn't he think it would bother me? Maybe it was because there was such a lack of choice that I had opted for the closest thing to attractive around here. But then there was his personality and those eyes – normally I didn't spend enough time with one guy to notice little things like the colour of their eyes, let alone their personality. I had to be going crazy – it was the only plausible option. I could hear Miss 'I'm such a perfect head cheerleader and spoilt rich girl' Madison Abbot and her opinion going around my head. He drove me crazy, I both loved and hated being around him, I couldn't keep him out of my head...I knew she'd be convinced it was a crush. But come on...I wasn't sixteen any more. I didn't get crushes...did I? God, this was so confusing.

"Romana? You left these behind"

Looking up, Juice was stood holding my gloves out to me. He seemed as embarrassed now as I had done when I realised where his hand had been. There was something else I could not help but find endearing about him. There was almost something attractive about his awkwardness – he wasn't joking when he said he was more comfortable with machines and guns than people. With a smile, I took the gloves from him and slipped them into my bag. Turning the engine on, I glanced over and it struck me that it looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next, or like he wanted to ask me something but wasn't sure how to say whatever it was.

"Juice..."

"Yeah?"

"You doin' anything later? Say about 6?"

"Not that I know of...why?"

"You feel like getting a drink some where? No alcohol this time, at least for me – I'd like to talk to you when I'm sober"

"Yeah...d'you want me to pick you up? I know a little bar not too far out if you want to go there"

"If you want to, come here"

Walking over some what dumbfounded (he probably hadn't been expecting me to ask him to grab a drink with me, bless – he seemed excited about it though), I took his arm and wrote down my cell number on his arm, having taken a pen from behind his ear. Handing the pen (and his arm) back to him I spotted the dying signs of a smile he was trying to suppress. Oh bless, he really was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met.

"Call me when you turn up...I live opposite Opie – he has really lovely kids"

"Yeah...they're great. See you at 6 then?"

"Six it is. Bye"

Holy shit did I just get myself a date? God, I really didn't know how so slow down, did I? Half-sack would lose it with me. I was so glad it was not his day to come round and see me. I couldn't wait to see his face when he found out. Still, could've been Tig...Kip should be grateful that I'd gone for someone closer to my age and way less likely to use me. At least I hadn't gone to bed with him before now. Could've done so last night...but instead I chose to play pool and crack Tig over the head with a cue. I don't know which could be classed as more fun...knocking someone out or waking up to a virtual stranger with the biggest hangover to date. I think I may have gone with the safer option. You never know what you could catch these days.

Wait...I got myself a date? I'd never been on one before. What did I do...what did I wear? Bloody hell, I needed help.


	5. Find me here, speak to me

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. SOA belongs to Sutter and FX. Only Grainne/Romana is my creation._

_A/N: A huge thank-you to __ for reviewing my last chapter. I know I said I'd hold off until I got five reviews but I'm in a good mood – I got a job today so no more concerns about money. It's only 16 hours a week which allows me to continue writing. This will go up to M in the next chapter and I'm sorry this one is short in comparison to the last few, but it will be longer come next chapter_

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"Calm down girl...you'll give yourself a panic attack"

"I've not done this before...what if I screw up?"

"It's Juice, how can you screw up compared to him?"

"This is me we're talking about. I can screw up anything"

"Look, Celt. You'll be fine – he's more likely to mess up than you are. I know you must be thinking about whatever his name was and I can promise you, Juice isn't like that he's just too soft to hurt anyone"

"Like Kip? All heart and not a lot else"

"Yeah. You'll be fine. He hurts you and I'll tear him apart. Same goes for you – hurt him and I'll hunt you down. We all good with that?"

"Will you quit scaring the poor girl Jax? Sit down 'ana and chill out"

"Ana? That's a new one – people usually shorten it to Roma or just call me Celt"

"Jax out. And sit down already – you'll wear a hole in the carpet with the amount you're pacing"

"I'm sorry. I can't help it"

Shaking her head, Tara practically pushed Jax out of the bedroom and closed the door after him. Why on earth was I this nervy? For goodness sake – it was just one little date it wasn't like I was getting married or anything like that. And I didn't see that happening. No, I wasn't marriage material. Too wild and free-spirited an individual to even consider settling down. My longest 'relationship' lasted just over three weeks. I couldn't stand being tied to anyone; as much as I willed myself to it just wasn't possible for me, it wasn't for a lack of trying I just couldn't do it. I had fought with myself every waking moment; there was the part that craved the stability and safety that came from being someone's woman, but I hated the monotony and predictability. If I wasn't so stubborn I would have split on day one instead of day twenty-one. I guess I just hadn't found anyone I was compatible with, not yet at least. Or maybe it had been that I had been stuck in the same place with the same people my whole life and I was stuck in my ways. Being out in Charming, even for the short space of time that I'd been around, was helping me to see things in a new light. Maybe I could give something like this ago. Maybe I just had to push past the barriers of insecurity and stay with it rather than giving it 30 seconds before splitting, I had to work through problems instead of running from them.

It was strange what just over one week in a new place could do to a person.

"So, now you've calmed down, lets see what you have to wear"

"What am I doing? This is crazy"

"No it's not. You're letting the past get to you"

"Honey, you know nothing about my past. Don't act like you know me"

"I know more than you think"

"Try me"

"You've got history, I get that and I admit that I don't know much about it. However, my guess is that whatever you've been through has toughened you. It's left you fairly cold and paranoid. You're used to having control and get frustrated when you don't get and keep that control. However, underneath it you long for some sort of stability, maybe even a family"

"Why would I want a family? All they do is tear your heart apart. Now, it's my turn. You're originally a small-town girl who wanted more than what was on offer. Someone who wanted out of her boyfriends lifestyle because she couldn't hack it. A former girlfriend who went off to medical school and has reappeared in town as a paediatrician, the absence resulting in no apparent loss to chemistry. Still that raven hair temptress, beautiful even in scrubs. If you could toughen up a bit rather than letting everything get to you, you'd easily better Gemma when it came to Clay stepping down. However, your morals and ethics get in your way and trip you up. You'd do well to learn to block shit out"

"I'm sorry-"

"And so you should be. Just leave – I'll figure this out by myself. I don't need anyone else. Never have, never will. People are a crutch; they're only ever out to use you for their own selfish ends and needs"

Silence and shock crossed her face. However, she didn't move. It was like she was rooted to the spot and it was really starting to piss me off. Opening the cabinet next to me, I took out a gun and turned to watch her, loading the chambers. She left the room as I slid the cylinder back into place. A sigh and I realised that I'd done it again; I'd scared off another person. Still, the cool touch of metal and familiar weight did enough to calm me. It reminded me of the scent of gunpowder and crack of the hammer flowing through the air around me the first time I'd ever fired it. I'd been a few days past my thirteenth birthday at the time. It'd taken those few days to find enough time with just me and my father to do this together. My step-mother at the time had been good to me; probably the only one who I ever got on with other than my own mother. She'd been caught in a drive-by and unfortunately didn't make it. All since and before her had hated me, especially the current one I didn't understand why – maybe it was just me. Maybe I was naturally a hated person. The gun would be kept on me this evening for my own sense of security more than anything else. I couldn't handle going anywhere unarmed any more. I jumped at my own shadow these days and I knew why it was, but no-one else did. Not even Kip had the first clue as to why I was in Charming; every time he questioned it I'd change the subject or tell him to drop it.

Now, I had this damnable drink to get ready for...it didn't seem so terribly terrifying if I thought of it as a drink rather than a date. Second-skin jeans (maybe a little too low-slung), knee high (but flat) boots, gym top styled leather corset, serpent shaped armlet, forget the make-up and leave the hair to do it's own thing. Tonight didn't call for anything too dramatic. At least I hope it didn't...I didn't really want it to go too fast because that's when things usually went to pieces. Besides, I was here to keep men out of my life. And how was I doing that by going out to get a drink with one of them?

_For goodness sake, Grainne Catalina you are a fool. Can you not keep your resolve when around a pair of brown eyes? Why should I fight it? I've never been able to resist and probably never will. Mother always said I'd have a pull to them – something to do with them reminding me of home. I may have grown up in New York and her in Wales, but Spain would always be our spiritual home as it was grandfather's physical and spiritual reside. She said we were tied to it and would never be completely happy until we were there. But how am I meant to leave behind all this...oh, just stop thinking Grey_

The sound of an engine in the driveway dragged me out of my thoughts. I was not ready for this. Was it worth putting the effort out if nothing was to come of it? I knew what severeal people would be telling me if I was back home; live life with no regret, put my heart out there and don't be scared of getting hurt because it's all worth it in the end. A knock on the door and my feet stuck on the bottom step, I could feel the throb of a heartbeat against a ribcage and there was a rush of blood flowing around my ears. It didn't feel like I was in control any more, it was like someone had taken control and was manipulating me to move and open the door. Opposite I spotted Jax and Opie sat out on their bikes in their usual evening talk mode. Cigarette in one hand, the other either playing with a thread of material or twirling a lighter between their fingers. However, it had broken for them to watch the unfolding scene. There was a trademark smirk plastered over Jax's face and Opie had that usual unreadable but still very deep expression that never seemed to change. Closing the door behind Juice (but not before flipping them off) I pointed out the front room. Weren't we going out tonight?

"Feel like a drink?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah I guess...thanks"

Was it just me, or did he seem as nervous as me, if not more so? Maybe it was even footing for once. The fridge was humming at me as it usually did when I'd put a little too much in it. At the moment it had an extra 9 or 10 bottles stored in the shelving units attached to the door. I know some may think of it as extreme but I was used to the idea of any number of bikers dropping in on me without warning and all in search of something of the cold liquid variety. Sitting down next to him, offering out the opened beer bottle I tried to figure out what the hell I was meant to say. Placing the bottle down on the coffee table he appeared to toy with the hem of his cut for a couple of moments before clearing his throat and glancing over to me. His eyes gave away his clear uncertainty as to what he should do or say next. It was like a blind date set-up between two strangers by mutual friends. This was crazy.

"I drove past the bar on the way here – it's closed down...sorry"

"Don't worry, recession has a habit of closing things down"

Silence again. This was awkward and difficult – more so than I had expected.

"So...what's there to do in Charming?"

"Not that much...I know, great advertisement come to Charming, like Miss America it's pretty but not a lot else to it...but Charming really is a family town, bars and clubs aren't around here that much – I mean, there's the sons clubhouse, but that's fairly quiet tonight. As hell would we be let in the hairy dog"

"Whys that?"

"White supremacists run the bar and lets face it – neither of us are a perfect milk white like they want in their bar"

"We should go – just to piss em off"

"You can but I'm not...actually I think Half-sack would kill me"

"Kip? The kids a pushover"

"Not in the ring"

"You just gotta know how to deal with it...I prefer a blend of bojutsu and street fighting and it used to undo him pretty quickly"

"And I have no idea what that is"

"Bojutsu? Fighting with a Bo...staff. I'll show you some time. Now – what are we going to do? I suppose we could hang around here and just get wasted. At least no-one has to ride drunk"

"Are you sure?"

"I'd rather sit around at home than go out – I'm more comfortable here than any where else"

"Then I guess if I can't figure out any where better I suppose we're staying here then"

"Yeah but don't get any ideas though. It's just a drink and a talk"

I said that but I had a feeling that things would end up in a very different situation. Maybe I wanted them to go that way...I don't know, it was hard to tell what was going on in my head these days, let alone what I really wanted any more.


	6. Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir

_Disclaimer: You all know the drill by now; I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. SOA belongs to Sutter and FX. Only Grainne/Romana is my creation._

_A/N: I'm going to be honest – one of the reasons I'm forever asking for reviews is because I'm some what insecure when it comes to my writing. One of my early English teachers never did anything but criticise and it's got to me, that every other teacher I've had since then found no fault in it made no difference and it's left quite a major hole in my confidence so can I please get some reviews?_

_Also, I know I'm writing Juice a little OOC in this chapter but I think he may just have this side to him...there's just something about him that makes me think he isn't quite as socially inept or completely hopeless as he is usually portrayed. I have a feeling that there maybe something just a little messed-up under what I consider to be the façade of club idiot__  
_

* * *

Six long weeks since Juice had come round (and inevitably spent the night), but I hadn't yet been able to be around any of them for very long. He'd gotten into my head and as hard as I tried there was no shaking him. Something as small as the brush of leather on skin would evoke vivid, explosive memories that quite happily left me in a dream world. Strange how you never completely remember the words, the setting or order of events...but you always seemed to remember the little touches, the scents, the breathlessness of the seemingly fleeting moments that would be difficult to ever recapture. The moments lived in the dream-world of memory and would fade with each passing rise and fall of the sunlight hours. I'd been stuck in this dream-world every day since that night and work were starting to get pretty pissy with me – at least the restaurant was. The now re-opened bar loved the transformation. However, it was a Wednesday morning which meant I was needed in the restaurant that so hated me at the moment.

I always felt over dressed for this job and was thankful that I could ride in dressed in leathers. At first the other members of staff had been rather put off by the appearance of psycho biker chick Romana, but they had got used to it over the last month and a half. I think the dreamy smile was the reason behind why my section of the eating area was almost always full at the moment – that and to be honest, I was damn good at my job. Not to brag or anything, but I was raised to tell the truth.

"Romana – you got a few new people waiting. Looks like your biker chick rep is out – it's full of leather waistcoats"

"They're called cuts Kate, not leather waistcoats. Whats on them?"

"I dunno – one looks like a reaper the rest I'm not sure about the others, it looks tribal. I was not making eye contact with them"

"Sons and Mayans. How stupid could they...Jean. If they don't kill him, I will"

"Talking to yourself again, not good sweetheart"

"Thank-you Sergio, I know I was talking to myself. Think you can help me out there?"

"Nasty mix?"

"Could be if we're not careful"

I think I was starting to surprise myself with just how many of the Mexican's I knew. I had to admit that I knew a number of the Mayans on sight and part of that was down to religion. Being of Gitano descent (Spanish Romani really...but I personally prefer the first option, plus it's far more modern than the latter) I was technically roman catholic, but I'm not really an avid church-goer. I'm more of a religious holidays and four sacraments girl. However, I'd been around a couple of times to one of the nearby congregations just to get a feel for it.

"Romana Bevan, how lovely to see you smiling as usual"

"Álvarez, how nice to see you again – I suppose you'll be after the usual"

"Of course"

"And your friends?"

"I feel the same all round would be in order"

"Of course, if you will give me a moment"

I hated him. He was just so creepy – hell knows what he wanted from me. He never came in unless I was on shift – I didn't know how he knew, but he did. The aforementioned Sergio had seen to Jean who'd wisely sat away from the Mayans – maybe there was a brain in that head behind those eyes – so dark, beautifully intense. Perfectly complimented by his smile – that smile that lit them up, his laugh that they danced to. I knew I was probably smiling like an idiot, the customers probably thought I was losing the plot, what with knowing bikers by name and not hesitating to mix with them, but why the hell should I care what anyone thought of me any more? This was my damn life and I was entitled to live it how I wanted...if that was in the arms of amo-hawked biker (even if only for one night) then that's what I would damn well do. Dropping the order off I was stopped and dragged out of another memory by one of the other waitresses talking to me.

"I know that smile – which one is he?"

"I don't have the first clue what you're talking about"

"Yeah right...it's the one you took the orders off, isn't it?"

"Who...Álvarez? No, he's way too old for my liking"

"Is he sat with them?"

"That would be telling. Besides, I'm not really one for Mexicans, but the Puerto-ricans have a certain charm to them"

"No fair, you know I'm hopeless when it comes to telling the Hispanics apart"

"Not my fault you grew-up in a league-dominated house"

I know, I really am a terrible, terrible person but it was so much fun to watch the poor girl trying to figure it out. Part of me did feel very sorry for her, having been forced to grow-up in a house full of neo-nazis when she was just a hippie at heart that wanted people to actually get on and to be allowed to play with next doors children. She'd never understood why she couldn't - they may have never been the same skin colour as her but she hadn't understood why that had made theminherently bad people. However, she'd learn as everyone else did in the end. Picking up the tray that was now filled with drinks, I tried to concentrate and not look over at my source of distraction. He was sat toying with the hem of his cut, slumped back in a seat and still waiting on someone to take his order. Had Sergio not bothered? Clearly. I knew he wasn't exactly friendly when it came to the Puerto-Ricans but to refuse to serve him? Honestly, sometimes the man was impossible to work with.

Leaving the drinks on the table with those who'd ordered already there was an unwelcome sting on my backside. That was not on and clearly I wasn't the only one who thought it. I had barely registered the incident before the instigators of the supposed assault were being removed from the building. Sometimes I was grateful that the restaurant was so strict on personal space and how their employees were supposed to be treated.

"Can't keep yourself out of trouble, can you mami?"

"Since when did you ever call anyone that?"

"Ever since a pretty Gitano called Romana walked into my life. I think that I'm actually on the ball for once is scaring the club which is messed up because I can't keep you out of my head"

"I'm working Jean...but the feeling is very much mutual"

"What time does your shift finish?"

"I have another hour and a half – then half an hour to change"

"I'll meet you outside in two hours then"

"Can I get you anything until then?"

"A drink – surprise me"

"Can do and will do"

Surprise...how about something alcohol-free? Try some real, filtered, top-line coffee. Surprise was my speciality, surely he knew that by now? Walk away with a sway of the hips, a smile on your lips and aim to please your public, the captive audience. Honestly, where was I going with this? My train of thought was all over the place and I honestly did not have the first clue as to where my thoughts were headed. I didn't know how to stop them in all their rambling glory and I didn't know if I wanted to. Sometimes it was good to ramble to oneself.

* * *

"So, how was your work day?"

"Hell on earth - after you left everything got very busy very quickly. Didn't stop for the rest of my shift"

"You should take it easy this evening, take the weight off your feet"

"I would love to, but I have far too much work to do at home"

"My god woman. Does the word stop mean anything to you?"

"I can't stop. I've never really done the whole relaxing thing. I haven't ever wanted to"

"Tonight you will stop"

"Who's going to make me...you?"

"I made you stop the other night. Do you remember?"

He'd so far been sat on his bike, eyes hidden behind black lens and silver-plated frame. Slipping off the frame, his eyes hid a certain mystery to them. Dark, intensive, evocative. He pushed memories to the surface, memories that triggered a deep heat in the pit of my stomach, spreading like wild fire through all other regions. Burning up legs, turning them to jelly, searing through every joint pushing me to rely on his strength. Arms had looped around me, pulling me further into him stoking the fire to an inferno. I could recall everything; the breathlessness, the meld of bodies, beads of sweat rolling down and over each little crevice, the illicit small cries and moans, the rhythms of heartbeats near perfect in synchronicity. Yes, I remembered with such clarity that there had to be something otherworldly to it and I was sure he could see that recalling, lustful look in my eyes. His smirk did things to me I never thought possible, gazing at me from behind the hooded, heavy eyes. The mingle of iron and something else hit my mouth...I'd been biting my bottom lip and split it. Work would go crazy at me but I didn't care.

"I take it from your reaction that you do remember"

"I suppose I must do. It's been so hard to not remember"

"Is that why you stayed away for so long?"

"Truthfully? Yes - I couldn't look at you with out getting the most vivid of flashbacks I think I've ever had"

"You seem almost ashamed of what happened. Are you?"

"No...I suppose you've made me jealous the others hanging around that seem to only be after someone for the night"

"So, after one night I made you a jealous woman...what would two nights do to you then I wonder"

"I...I don't know"

"How about this - you go home with me and we find out together"

"That's not a very good chat-up line Ortiz"

"I've never been all that good with them...so, voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? Sorry, it's the only french I know"

"That's so wrong and even worse than the last one, but at least you're persistent. I think you mean tu veux coucher avec moi ce soir...to which I answer why the hell not? I've already gone there once and I don't have any complaints - they say it can only get better, right? Your place or mine?"

"Hey, no call for me to be anywhere until tomorrow, same goes for you unless they called you on to the next shift. I think we should take things a little slower"

"You're a terrible person, you know that don't you?"

He didn't answer, just smiled, eyes dancing again with a certain sparkle to them that let me know that he knew damn well what he was doing to me but couldn't care less. Maybe there was a twisted streak to the club idiot that he hadn't bother to inform me about. Or anyone else for that matter. Did they even know he was here? Surely he hadn't finished his working day already...it just didn't seem to make sense that he would finish this early. Usually I'd be in Charming for two hours before Teller-Morrow closed up and another hour before Kip would swing past to check on me. He'd made a habit of doing so since finding out where I'd moved to. I'd been trying to keep it quiet, but ever since Opie and Jax had spotted my bike outside it'd _somehow_ got round. Of course, they both proclaimed their innocence but we all knew that they couldn't have kept it quiet. Men usually can't keep their mouths shut - they were worse than woman at times.

He whispered something – what it was I couldn't tell you I was that damn lost – as his fingers found their way to my lower stomach, slowly brushing up and down my hip bones, if I hadn't been struck dumb before now I finally knew what people meant when they said it was impossible to speak in this situation. I could not find any of my words, I shouldn't be doing this – at least not in the staff car park. There was the tingle of cool flesh slipping past the waistband of my trousers, where the sensation rested for a moment, leaving me practically breathless. I was holding my breath, waiting for his next move but he didn't make one other than to wrap his spare arm around my waist and drag me closer where he held me for how ever long it was – it could have been seconds, it could have been an hour. What was time when lost in this bliss? I want to scream because this had to be what was considered true torture. Closing my eyes and biting down on the already split lip I could taste a flood of coppery blood coat me again. I knew this attempt to gain control of a rebellious body and raging libido was hopeless. I didn't stand a chance at finding the control I desired and the bastard knew it. He was using that to his advantage and what could I do, but stand there and wish he'd do something. _Anything_. Quite frankly I'd be happy to fuck him there.

He whispered something – what it was I couldn't tell you I was that damn lost – as his fingers found their way to my lower stomach, slowly brushing up and down my hip bones, if I hadn't been struck dumb before now I finally knew what people meant when they said it was impossible to speak in this situation. I could not find any of my words, I shouldn't be doing this – at least not in the staff car park. There was the tingle of cool flesh slipping past the waistband of my trousers, where the sensation rested for a moment, leaving me practically breathless. I was holding my breath, waiting for his next move but he didn't make one other than to wrap his spare arm around my waist and drag me closer where he held me for how ever long it was – it could have been seconds, it could have been an hour. What was time when lost in this bliss? I want to scream because this had to be what was considered true torture. Closing my eyes and biting down on the already split lip I could taste a flood of coppery blood coat my mouth again. I knew this attempt to gain control of a rebellious body and raging libido was hopeless. I didn't stand a chance at finding the control I desired and the bastard knew it. He was using that knowledge to gain a bigger advantage and what could I do, but stand there and wish he'd do something. _Anything_. Quite frankly I'd be happy to fuck him there.

"Juice, not here...please"

"So answer my question. Do you know the meaning of the word stop?"

"Yes"

"Good, now I think you should answer your own question...your place or mine?"

"I really don't give a damn"

"No-ones compared to you - do you know that? You've made every sweetbutt and crow eater hopeless in comparison. I'm not sure if I want to share you. I'm a selfish person, I know, but someone like you should be kept to one person only"

"Is that an invitation to be your old lady?"

"Maybe...we'll see"

His eyes were roving, half-closed, hooded under heavy lashes and I don't think I'd ever seen such lustful worship come from a sole person in my whole damn life. I'd never been anything to anyone, just another hopeless case and easy lay. I'd determined that I'd not be that way when I got here and I knew he'd figure out that my story was bullshit when he noticed that I didn't have any scarring. I could think of a way out of that. Maybe. I wasn't sure...I'd just have to play this one by ear. There was a wave of warmth, a brush of lips against my neck, letting my head fall back down to look at him, the touch of soft flesh - a hand - distracted me for a moment. Leaning into the caress slightly lost what control I did have and found the natural drive to respond to the touch of his lips against mine. The hand that had been at my cheek trailed down, applying a very light pressure to my hip came as a surprise - a welcome one, but still a surprise. That small gasp that I had no control over left a smirk on his face when he pulled away to look at me, head tilted to one side, seemingly examining me. I could feel the weakness spreading again; the whole legs turning to jelly thing you're forever hearing about that you think is total bullshit? Turns out that actually it really happens. Maybe not with very many people, but certainly with him.

"Ride with me...or think you can stand long enough to ride by yourself?"

"I need to ride by myself, otherwise this is just gonna sit here all night and it'll probably get taken by someone"


	7. I think of you with a smile on my face

_Disclaimer: As in the previous 6 chapters; I do not own anything to do with SOA, it's production or casting. SOA belongs to Sutter and FX. Only Grainne/Romana is my creation. _

_A/N: I would really like some reviews – I have a load of people with this on alert, but I'm only getting one or two reviews if that. But, thank-you Yammy1983 and MissCrys for reviewing_

_Also, anything in italics is going to be a flashback_

_

* * *

_

It had been another night to drive me to distraction – but work forced me to leave the bed. I wasn't the only one though, Romana had unhappily risen around ¾ of an hour before me. However, money was essential to survival and unfortunately to be in receipt of money one had to work. Yes, I did enjoy my job but I enjoyed Romana's 'company' far more and who could blame me? The woman was truly a goddess, it was the only plausible explanation as to how she could garner such a strong hold so quickly over individuals. That or I was far too easily charmed by a woman's graces. More than likely the latter, but that was going off my original point. Work – it had a habit of creeping up at the most irritating of moments.

"Mornin' Juice"

"Good morning Tig"

He looked at me for a moment, maybe a little confused as to why I was a good mood that morning. It took a few moments (I swear I could hear the cogs going round in his head) before it dropped into place and he started to grin like a manic (not hard to do, considering that it_ is_ Tig I'm talking about), tilted his head and raised his voice and let the whole damn world know.

"Juice got laid"

"Again?"

"Yep – come check out the idiots grin and perky mood if you don't believe me"

There was a general shuffling around and sure enough I was (we were – me and Tig that is) surrounded (well, it was more of a semi-circle) by a number of people. Jax was the last to arrive shaking his head as half a million questions were fired at me, all of which I refused to answer. After all, I'm a gentleman – I don't like to kiss and tell. Ok, maybe I did but there was something different about Romana, I didn't want them to know...besides, she may not be a relative but I had a feeling that Half-sack would kill me for being with her without permission.

"Leave the techie alone and get back to work. You're late"  
"I know, I'm sorry"  
"Just be glad it's me and not Clay who got to you first. You can clean your...office when you've finished working. He'd have you doing something even more mind-numbingly dull. Why are you late? A sweetbutt doesn't normally stop you getting here on time"

"She's no sweetbutt"

"Yeah? Finally got yourself an old lady?"

"I don't know – we're seeing where it goes."

"Do I get a name?"

"Nope, besides – I'm already late"

* * *

"I know that smile"

I hadn't even got off my bike and I was already getting hassled. Yes, I was smiling but how could I not smile? Last night had left me considering just what it would be like to be exclusive. Yeah, I'll be honest the bedroom was amazing...but it was the talking afterwards. One arm draped over my waist, the other cradling my head – who thought a biker could be so...sensitive. OK, so I knew what Kip was like but he'd always been a little on the soft side. I'd never had him down as the type to prospect. He'd always had a love of bikes and I didn't understand how I couldn't have seen it sooner. Now, back to last night. Conversation – mostly about him, I tried to be vague – me and Kip hadn't really had a chance to discuss any details yet and I didn't want to contradict anything he may have said. The question of scarring didn't come up like I was expecting which was a relief, but I found my laugh again. It'd been so long since I'd really laughed that I'd almost forgotten how to but it was so natural – it just bubbled up inside me and over flowed into a sound. I'm not even sure why I had been laughing – maybe it was the story of one of his many hazings over the years, or something stupid he'd done as a child. I didn't really remember, but it felt good to laugh and to have a reason to smile again.

"Oh really, tell me about it"

"I knew he was here...which one was he?"

"The pretty one with the mohawk and reaper cut"

"Him? Damn girl...is he the same one?"

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't"

"I hate it when you don't give straight ans...he is, isn't he? Maybe you should introduce me to some of his friends some time"

"How about tonight – I'm due a shift off from my weekend job. I think we could go crash one of their parties"

"What sort of party is it?"

"Booze, strippers and the odd joint going round. Nothing harder than that"

"Won't the police have a problem with it?"

"I've learnt quickly that they practically run the town. If it wasn't for them then the little town would have been flooded with hard drugs and prostitutes by now. They're the lesser of two evils so the local force tends to turn a blind eye"

"What do I wear?"

"Come back to my place and we'll sort that out for you. I'll introduce you to Opie, he lives opposite me and Jax should be there. Usually is"

"Oh really"

"Don't – both married, well Jax is almost divorced and his old beau* is back on the scene so they're hands off. Just as a warning, you'll probably run into a psycho called Tig. Stay away...you never know what you might pick up off him. He's one of the biggest players I've ever had the displeasure of meeting"

"You love to ruin my fun, don't you? You all sorted out here? Good. Work then"

I had a feeling that tonight would be very...entertaining. Climbing out the back seat of the friends car. I'd taken to changing in here following various complaints about the smell of petrol that clung to the clothes. I couldn't blame them, I personally couldn't stand their over-priced perfume. Why deal with the many when you can deal with the one though? This seven hour shift would be the death of me. The early ones always were, 8.30 till 3.30 and then hand over to the afternoon staff. There was the half hour meeting at the end, journey back to Charming and then the change for the evening. On the odd occasion when I had been it hadn't taken too much time for me to decide what to wear...however, put me with someone else and it always took an extra two or three hours, plus half a bottle of wine, to get ready. It was only ever a low volume percent wine though, after all someone had to be sober enough to drive.

The day was slow. I wasn't the only one suffering – part way through my break I got a call from Juice who was bored mindless. He'd been told to tidy up for being late. Poor thing, still maybe it would spread to the rest of his life. It was almost like he didn't know how to tidy up.

* * *

"_I was wondering..."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"Were you serious when you said I should show a little more pride in my Spanish heritage?"_

"_I probably shouldn't have said – it's just the way you were talking made it sound like you were ashamed of it, but it's part of you and you've got nothing to be ashamed of"_

"_I didn't realise...that's going to change. I'll see you later. I'm bringing a friend. Need to go, my breaks over"_

_

* * *

_

I'd cut him off before he could question what I meant. So here I was, first time I'd ever opted for a tan bed. Normally I swore I'd never go near them...but I hadn't been very sociable over the summer. Normally I'd be out in the sun during the summer and that tan would carry through the winter months, but I _was_ far more pale than was usual for me. My hair had needed sorting as well, that'd been seen to earlier – it'd been the same frizzy mass for the last few weeks and I hadn't bothered to do anything about it other than tie it back for work. Even that had been starting to fail. I had been dragged by my darling friend to what she claimed to be the best hairdressers she knew of – I had to admit, they were pretty good and the usual mass of uncontrollable raven sat as it did when I was younger – loose, but small, curls that didn't go everywhere at a moments notice, if it gave any notice at all. I'd have to consider that place again. I didn't know how long I'd been in here, but I knew I wasn't keen on it – nope, I'd have to stick to the natural way from now on...maybe I was a tad claustrophobic and hadn't realised it until I was stuck here. The lid couldn't open up fast enough, much to my friends amusement.

"Feeling uncomfortable in there love?"

"You never said they were so small"

"No worries – and I must say, you tan very well"

"Finally, my grandfather was some use...he was Spanish. Though the only thing he's even given me is the ability to not get sunburnt. Shall we get going then? I do believe we have a party to get ready for"

"You riding back?"

"I don't have much choice...just follow me and you won't get lost"

Climbing off the back of the bike, there seemed to be little attention paid to anything outside the roll down shutters. It did look pretty full in there. However, there was a car here that had started to smoke two blocks down the road – I told her she should have got it checked out but she didn't listen. And now her car had decided to throw a strop and break down on her. Thankfully there had been a couple of rather sweet residents who recognised me and had helped push it here. All young men of course, none of whom though it was ringing for the tow truck when it was so close to the garage. Bless, they actually thought they stood a chance with either of us. However, my good friend had her eyes set on a biker and not a hang around. Leaving my jacket and helmet on the seat of the bike I walked over to the car and rammed the heel of my palm onto the horn. It's blaring actually got some attention shockingly. They'd sent poor half-sack who was jogging over, clearly embarrassed by whatever hazing he was being reminded of at the time. There was a hint of relief on his face until he realised just who was stood half dressed (in his opinion) in the middle of the lot. I suppose part of me did feel sorry for him, after all I was his cousin even if I was meant to be acting like an old friend and I was stood around in nothing more than leather trousers, boots and a white tank top**. It wasn't exactly a very thick top and, well a girl only wear back underwear if she wants someone to see it...right. Fair to say, it could be seen – not the detail, but the outline.

"Romana...what are you wearing?"

"Clothes...aren't you going to ask what's wrong with the car?"

"I was going to"

"Good, because I don't know. I know my way around a bike like the back of my hand but cars are a mystery. You're the mechanic so you figure it out"

"Fine, go leave the details with Gemma. She's in the office"

So maybe I was being a little on the mean side to him, but he couldn't play protective cousin all the time. Taking my now rather stunned friend by the hand I practically had to drag her to the office. I didn't get it – maybe it was because I'd grown up around them, but she seemed fascinated by the row of bikes up one side. It did make me smile though. She seemed so innocent of this world, I felt guilty letting her into it.

Gemma was sat at her desk with Bobby talking over some report. The office didn't really have room for us and both of them. Looking up as the door closed, Bobby collected the papers and left to do what ever it was he had been doing before. There was that smile on her face – the whole, I'm gonna act nice but I really don't like you smile that she seemed to constantly wear around select women – like Tara and myself. I could tell she didn't really approve of what I was wearing – her previous comment about leathers*** stuck in my mind for a moment, but faded the moment she opened her mouth.

"How can I help you Romana?"

"Friends car broke down. Not sure whats wrong with it. She's the one you'll need details from"

"Of course, if your friend would like to fill out one of the contact sheets we'll be in touch when it's sorted out. By the way, is that a natural tan?"

"I'm allergic to the spray. Tanning bed, so in a way yes it's natural"

"So I guess you're coming tonight?"

The door opened and Juice came in with a pile of files and bits of paper. The one thing I really couldn't do right now was look in his eyes. There was still that rush of lust that had a habit of dragging us back to the bedroom if we let it and as of yet it was difficult to control.

* * *

_I didn't get why we were doing this – it was mad. I hardly knew him but everything about him took over and all I wanted was him. __He seemed to know what was going through my mind, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, were that at all possible, I hadn't thought it was. I turned my head slightly so his lips landed on mine, sliding my tongue in to meet his again. Breaking he picked me up and quite literally dropped me on the bed... _

_

* * *

_

He left the room, trying to suppress the smile that I had failed to, I was not going to remember any more from that night – not until later at least. Memories would push me to follow that impulse to follow him and to have him on the first solid object that was away from the public sight. Miss high and mighty had one of the knowing looks when I turned back to her, of course she of all people would pick up on it. Hopefully she wouldn't convince Clay to send him off on some run at the last minute leaving me to suffer through the raging fires he stirred with little more than the right look in my direction.

"Of course, work's settled down and I have spare time. I have no reason not to come"

"I suppose I may see you later then"

"You might"

I knew exactly what she was thinking – it was running through my mind. I'd see her later if I could keep my hands off Juice and out of the bedroom for more than fifteen minutes. Mission impossible? No. Mission highly unlikely? Very much so. I think my friend had latched on to what I was thinking as we left the office. I could hear the yelling start as Juice managed to trip over something or someone...maybe coming here wasn't such a great idea after all. So much for him being on the ball maybe that was a one time charm I had and he'd lost in now.

"So...the one causing all the trouble is the new beau* then? Very good taste if he is – were he a free agent I'd be happy to try my luck"

"I wouldn't say that he was a beau...at the moment we're pretty much just fuck buddies, but we'll see where it goes and thank-you. I've only ever had a taste for the very best"

"What about the one that came over...is he free?"

"Who? Half-sack...as far as I know"

"Half-sack? Do I want to know how he got that name?"

"He got one of his balls blown off in Iraq. You'll know whether you want to or not – that's how I work sweetheart. Totally civil and perfectly behaved for the restaurant, complete bitch and to hell with discretion outside of it"

"Am I going to see more of that tonight?"

"It depends on how much trouble the hang-arounds and whores cause"

"Then here's me hoping it's enough to see you kick off"

"Oh, hush-up. Put the jacket and helmet on and we'll be off"

"What about you?"

"I've been riding most of my life – unless an idiot crashes into us I'm not coming off this. I don't loose control. Hold on though, I have a habit of going a little over the speed limit"

* * *

*As in boyfriend/girlfriend, not as in escort

**I believe is more commonly referred to as a wife-beater in the states, but I'm not sure

***See chapter two if you're unsure about this


	8. In your sweetest torment I am lost

_Disclaimer: You should all know how this goes by now_

_A/N: I've finally figured out this review reply thingy so any reviews should get a reply from me (yes, for a person with a 150 IQ I can be very slow at times) and I finally have my work pattern figured out so I might be updating more often now. If you hadn't guessed it already from the slight variations in spelling I live in England and so I won't always use the same lingo, I'll put equivalents at the bottom of the chapter as I did in the last chapter provided I know them, if you don't recognise a word google it. I don't think I've used anything this time, but do point it out if you think I have...these things aren't usually obvious unless you point them out.  
_

* * *

There was the usual bright lights and smoke of the barbecue that first brought me back into the real world. I'd left the bike at home for the simple fact that it would be easier to trust a car tonight. It still didn't stop me fighting for control of my body's reaction to be in what it considered a prison. I felt trapped and unsafe in this metal shell, fighting desperately to calm down – I was not going to look a mess when I turned up. I'd worked damn hard over the last few hours on both my friend and myself in order for us to turn heads and nerves would not be ruining that for me. I saw a few faces that I presumed were pretty much constants – I had a had for faces, an almost photographic memory if you were to ask my former school teachers. I was so glad to be out of there and never wanted to go back into any form of education. I was more than capable but I just wasn't the sort of person who could deal with being sat in lecture halls being spoken at and taking notes for hours on end, it was just too dull an option for me. I needed some form of stimulation to keep me interested.

"You OK?"

"Hmm...oh, yeah"

It was my friend that snapped me out of that route of thought. I could've been sat here for half an hour if not more if I'd got lost in my own head. Well, here goes nothing. Opening the door the throbbing drumbeat of some nameless industrial song or another hit me dragging me further out of my own mind. It was one of those songs that you knew but it was such a vague knowledge that you just couldn't say who sang it or even what it was called. There was a gentle push behind me – the friend was waiting for me to introduce her to someone or at least guide her to the bar. I knew how she was feeling – so far we hadn't been noticed but there was no way on earth that it would stay that way. Christ, I was Kip's mate of course people were going to recognise me, even if it was just so one of those nasty, cheap crow-eaters could get a little closer to him. I'd always throw them off, offering hints that I _knew_ he would hate. It was always hilarious to see him knock them back and go for one of the few who didn't talk to me. Poor, desperate, lonely whores. I had who I wanted and wasn't going to let him go, not any time soon at least. Thinking about him brought that little smile to my face, some would say it was almost predatory in the way it pushed a new light into my eyes and dragged that spring into my step. Although, by now it was more of a stalk.

I knew people were watching as we walked. Nasty glances were shot at me...I guess good news travelled quickly then. Strictly speaking we weren't actually anything much at the moment but it didn't stop them presuming. I could use that presumption though – it'd make things that bit more interesting in the long run and the prize would be far more appreciated once it was mine and mine alone. There was the glittering of the lights catching the sequined material that made up the so-called bandage dress. I understood why they called it that – it did really look like someone had wrapped a roll of something round me again and again. It was both backless and sleeveless – I'd learnt to hate having backs and sleeves a long time ago, at least on dresses. I did have to admit that it was a lot shorter than I was used to, but covered more than most of the others girls clothing would do. It wasn't ridiculously tight around my legs, but that little tighter than I would normally wear. Still, at least I could move in it. Black and silver seemed to suit me, or at least this me – the bolder, more self-confident me. Not the one that would normally tear a man's throat out for looking at me. Or woman's for that matter – yeah, I had had that unfortunate experience some time ago. I'd never let it happen again, just because someone was the same gender doesn't mean that you should trust them any more than the opposite gender. If anything they were less worthy of trust.

He was sat quite innocently at the bar with his back to me. None of the others with him seemed to have noticed me...yet. However, one of the nearby girls did and it struck me that she probably had a thing for him going on her following behaviour. She crossed the short distance between them and started fawning over him in a sickening manner. Although he kept up the laughter and act of enjoying the attention there was a tension in him that I hadn't seen before. Someone came up behind me, placing their hands over my eyes in the whole childish guess-who game.

"Hey Kipper"

"I wish you wouldn't call me that"

"Well, it's more fun than Kip and shorter than half-sack. Plus I'm an independent woman who can more than look after herself"

"Yeah yeah...what's up with the Spanish sweetheart look?"

"A change of mind – I was sick of starting too look like everyone else. Plus my good friend here, Miriam, wanted to see what the club was all about"

"Oh, hey. M'names Kip but everyone calls me half-sack"

"He the one that lost one of his balls in Iraq?"

"You told her that?"

"It was funny...at least it was at the time. Feel like being a gentleman and getting us a drink each?"

"Fine. What are ya having?"

"Jack for me, don't screw around with it. Straight, by itself. Got it? Miri?"

"Oh, I don't really know...what ever you're having"

"Fine, I'll go – sometimes you're worse to me than anyone else here is"

"It's because I know what makes you tick Kipper. I know which buttons to push and how far to push you. Right now I have myself a whore to deal with. Bring my drink to me and look after Miri, kay? I don't want Tig near her – tell him I'll be near the pool cues if he tries anything and I _will_ know. Anyone else is fine"

"What about Clay?"

"Maybe not Clay, but he isn't such a worry. I like my work life separate from here. He'd get her drunk and press her. I know he will, don't forget my background Kipper I know what I'm talking about. Older presidents are always paranoid gits. No exceptions. Ever"

"Christ, I get the picture already. No Tig and avoid Clay. Yes ma'am. Now, I suggest you keep an eye on what's going on around you"

A cheeky smile and a playful whack to the back of his head let the now re-named Kipper know that I had closed the conversation and wanted my drink sooner rather than later. Toying with the curls , watching him and biting my bottom lip gave me something to do in lieu of talking as I looked over at the group that had had my attention earlier; the whore had gone, as had numerous others leaving Juice to his own devices and drink. There was something about the way he sat that suggested he was growing bored, maybe even a little disappointed that he hadn't yet spotted me. I knew that look, his eyes would be growing dull and he'd be burning a hole into whatever he was staring at. Letting go of the near black lock and letting the click of heels on the floor I found that sway again – the confident, bold young woman who had a certain someone locked in their sights. It didn't really feel like I was walking, but going on the sound of footfall I knew I had to be. I was not going to fall to pieces now, not when I was so close. But I could feel the thundering of my heart against the restrictive bone and muscle prison of a ribcage. My ribcage. God, it was one person so why was I getting like this?

He turned at the last moment, catching my outreached hand. I had intended to sneak up on him and give him a little surprise but maybe he'd known for a long time that I was there watching him. I didn't know but I didn't care all that much. Saying nothing he pulled me into him using his one spare arm to guide me so I was stood between his legs and pinned to his chest. The hand that had first pulled me in ran through my hair, trailing down my jaw line and pulling my chin up to look at him. Shivers ran over skin he touched. Both searing hot and freezing cold at the same time, longing for the contact again.

"Hey you...miss me today?"

"Of course"

"What did you fall over?"

Leaning into him, my lips lingered infuriatingly close to his. The heat of his breath ghosted over the nerves, tingling. God, I'd never wanted to cave so easily but I knew I couldn't give in first. I could feel eyes staring at me, hating me for being the one wrapped in his arms, pressed that close that I doubt air could pass between us. I think part of him knew exactly what this holding out was doing to me but somehow I think that little part was enjoying it.

"I don't really remember. I was too busy thinking about you"

"Oh really?"

"Yeah"

I think that neither of us could hold out on each other for too much longer. I was partly surprised that we'd managed this long without trying to find an empty room. He planted several frustratingly light kisses along my jaw line but pulled back before I could do anything to further it. Smirking his eyes flickered over to the whore who'd been paying him an unnecessary amount of attention earlier. There was the soft brush of his fingertips over the small of my back as he took to what I figured must have been a habit for him...or maybe it was just something he felt he should do. I wasn't going to argue as rather than stoking the growing fires of wanton lust, it seemed to calm them into a soft glow. Silence was comfortable with him, with my arms wrapped around his waist and head resting on his shoulder I could stop being paranoid for a moment and relax. The wicked step mother wasn't about to burst through the doors and hurt me, he wouldn't let her.

"I think you'll have to watch your back"

"Why is that?"

"Well, there are a number of girls staring daggers at you"

"Fuck 'em. You can get away with that shit on run but not here"

"I wasn't aware that you were my old lady"

"Well, considering just how close we've gotten and that you admit you can't keep your mind off of me I think you should...besides you offered first"

"I suppose so. They're still staring"

"Then maybe we should give em a show"

I loved that wicked smile he got from time to time - mostly when he was aiming to wind up the general public. Smiling for a moment, I was distracted by the brush of his hand against my forehead, pushing hair out of my face. I think it was more so that he audience could get a better view. It didn't stop my knees wanting to buckle. His touch was a drug...yeah yeah, call me crazy. You wouldn't be the first and I doubt you'll be the last. Subconsciously licking my lips seemed to give him the cue to go ahead with whatever he was about to do. Before I had time to react or even think about what was happening, I found his lips on mine. Once my brain kicked in, I wrapped my arms around his neck and him closer to deepen the kiss. I knew there would be a lot of hate in the room - he may not have been the oh so perfect Prince Jax, but he was still a patched Son that people thought were available. But why should I care? The world could fall apart right now or some crazed axe-murderer could burst through the door and chop everyone into tiny little pieces for the amount of attention I was paying to anything outside of what I had decided was the Juice bubble.

"Get a room you two"

"Interrupting just as it got good. Shame on you"

"Kipper, where's my drink?"

"Kipper? I'll have to remember that one"

"Only I get to call him Kipper. Drink please"

Knocking back the burning liquid, it detracted some what from the earlier burning. This was less pleasant and as much as I disliked the initial feeling, it had a way of warming me up. The glass went back on the bar next to me and the arms slipped around my waist, pulling me closer to a very happy Rican who currently had a very...noticeable appreciation of the new look and new attitude. This would be one very good night if I got my way and 90% of the time, I got my way. There was a certain need bugging me at the moment that reminded me that I had needed to go to the toilet before I'd got over here and I'd lost track of time after that. Slipping from his grasp and leaving him , I found the bathroom which was currently unoccupied much to my relief. I knew I'd have to be quick – I really didn't want to leave him at the mercy of jealous crow-eaters for too long. I didn't really know what they were capable of, but if they were anything like the girls up north then it'd only take 10 minutes to convince the most stubborn of waiting man to go to bed with them.

The running water that surrounded me seemed to be that little louder than normal – maybe it was the calm in here compared to the otherside of the door. Strange how you never really noticed it; the swirl of water getting pulled through pipes and into sewers simply to be cleaned and reused at a later date, like when you were washing your hands or running a bath...or shower for that matter. When did we start to take such incredible creations for granted? Water was so essential to our existence and it was so readily available, but it hadn't always been this was, had it? No – people used to have to walk miles and miles every day for water and even now that still happened which was sad but inevitable really. That no-one was willing to talk about it or consider what the real issue was kinda got to me. Kids shouldn't have to die because they don't have enough food or clean water. Snapping out of thoughts before I lost myself there (I would be able to do that...trust me. I once went 4 days without talking because I'd got lost in my own thoughts). I left the bathroom only to be confronted by miss try hard whore who'd been rejected in favour of me. She looked at me like I was dirt before opening her mouth.

"I don't know who you think you are but don't think you can turn up out of the blue and have an easy ride through. Juice has already got all he can handle"

"That ain't no way to talk to his old lady. I know he's got all he can handle he said it himself - I've made every sweetbutt and crow eater hopeless in comparison. You lost, get used to it...Chibs is looking a little lonely though. See if you can get his attention for once"

She didn't like that - the swift, stinging slap made it obvious. I knew it'd mark and I wasn't happy but neither was I going to retaliate, I didn't have to. Ok, maybe I had provoked her but she deserved it, she should have never approached me in the first place. A second was just too far though. Same cheek, but this time it hurt a damn sight more and there was no reason for it. Without really thinking the flick knife that had thus far remained under wraps was out and digging into her throat. It wasn't big enough to do any damage but it would scare her into listening to me.

"That was uncalled for. I suggest you leave me alone or I'll find you and slice that disrespectful tongue out of your mouth, leaving you to bleed. Do I make myself clear?"

"I don't get what he sees in you. You're more Tig's type"

Her voice was dripping with venom as I let her go. She looked at me with so much hate...I didn't believe it was possible to hate a stranger that much. But maybe she'd just proven me wrong. Slipping the now covered blade back where I had got it from I walked back into the room, spotting Jean who was by now looking for me with a degree of panic. Had he realised that his psychotic stalker had gone after me? No...probably didn't even realise that he had one. Bless, he seemed so oblivious to so much going on around him. I doubted she'd be causing us any trouble again. However, she'd triggered old fears and paranoia's. Finding my place in his arms again he gave me one of those looks - the ones he seemed to hand out like candy whenever I went quiet and sought him out.

"What is it?"

"Psycho stalker crow-eater hit me. Got her back for it, but..."

"She upset you?"

"Yeah...guess she did"

"C'mon. I know it's early but lets get out of here. We can do as much or as little as you want. Kay?"

"I suppose I could live with that"

Slipping off his seat at the bar, he circled my waist in a rather protective manner. He didn't know who the attacker was but it was like the gesture was to ward them off - whoever they were that is. I hadn't even bothered to ask their name...oh well, my wicked deed was done and their stupidity had done nothing but earn me an early night with _my_ man. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Miri still with Kipper both of whom seemed to be enjoying each others company and decided that we'd probably both still be here in the morning. However, going on what had been going on for Juice earlier it was more likely to be midday than morning before any of us were up and about if you get where I'm going with this. I hadn't really been paying attention to where we were going but when a door closed behind us, I did snap out of my daze long enough to figure out that we had to be in his clubhouse room. I wasn't sure if he had anywhere outside of here but it was very likely. It was hardly sensible to even contemplate living here. There just weren't the right facilities.

"Are you OK?"

"A little shocked maybe...why would they do that?"

"Some of them are crazy...might bruise but it won't be noticeable. Come here"

I knew it was a request but by habit I followed it as more of a command, casting those dumb-ass shoes to one side. I didn't get why I'd worn them in the first place. Looping his arms around my waist, he pulled me down to sit on his lap taking a moment to gather ourselves. I still wasn't sure what the rest of the club thought we were but I found myself caring less and less with each stroke of his fingertips of the small of my back. It was both a real weakness and a real turn on at the same time. As they had done earlier in the bar, it was like an instinct to find each others lips. There was the one hand toying with the back of my dress as if trying to figure out if it zipped up or not. It did, but he was searching in the wrong place, guiding it round to the side nearest him I left him to figure it out...were it not previously engaged I'm sure he'd be using his mouth to make some dumb-ass comment.

The evanesce touch of his hands replacing the slipping silk and cotton that had so far covered me stoked the fires he'd managed to keep calm this evening. How could one person have so much control and power over another without some sort of force or witchcraft involved? I knew there was no force in him - he would never make anyone stay and the general consensus was that witchcraft was women's work, plus he was a technical guy I didn't see him believing any of it. The only break in contact was for the necessity of breathing, that and to peel his shirt off, leaving it to one side. Returning to watching him, there was that heady look in his eyes that could only come from being drunk on lust. We'd managed a whole half an hour before finding a bedroom, which for us was a personal best. Normally we'd be desperate after a quarter of an hour...yeah yeah. Rabbits, heard it all before. The graze of his touch made its way at an agonisingly slow pace over thigh, hip, stomach, rib cage and neck settling yet again on my jaw, turning my gaze to him. Such a sweet torment, I'd lose myself there if he let me.

"I'm sorry"

"For what?"

"Letting someone hurt you"

"Forget about it. Doesn't matter. Just you and me now"

If you'd asked me who led, I'd not be able to tell you. All I knew is that it was like the first time. Although neither of us were that loud, what noise we did make seemed to fill the room without spilling over. Time was meaningless, both of us lost in one another and unable to draw the lines, define where we started and where the other ended. Whispers and sighs drowned out the noise from the bar, this was our music, not the drive and mechanical sounds of some man-made instrument, but the natural rhythms of bodies wound together consumed in passion, lust and dare I say maybe even a hint of love. The heat of release and ensuing blanketing bliss was something different. In the world I'd grown-up in he'd be gone already, in search of another conquest. I don't think he realised his staying meant so much to me. Lain over his chest, stroking the soaked skin with one of his arms wrapped around me was something different. Maybe it was the longing for this contact that had allowed me to let him get into my head. Love was a foolish, dead emotion. A sentiment of ages past. No-one truly loved any more - or at least that was what I had been raised to believe. So why was it that one person had made me doubt what hundreds have said over so many years?


	9. Don't save me because I don't care

_Disclaimer: I own nothing...Blah Blah Blah...see chapters 1-7._

_A/N: Italics are either going to be flashbacks or dreams. Thanks for the reviews. Only a very short chapter this time. Also, I know once again there is a section where I've written Juice OOC, but I just didn't see another way around it without changing the progression dramatically and having the others involved sooner._

_

* * *

_

_Hammering at the door, shouting at me, drunk assholes just three hundred yards away. Thirteen. I was just thirteen and I was being forced into a corner again. I didn't want to be here, I wanted it to go back to how it had been in years gone by when I could sit out in the bar, watching and listening to all the old stories before being put to bed and drifting into a silent sleep. This was hell – a twisted, nightmarish world that made me sick every time I woke up. I couldn't recall the last time I didn't wish I'd died in my sleep. I didn't give a fuck who got hurt but I couldn't take it any more. No matter how much I said no to myself, I found my feet traveling to the door, knowing it'd be so much worse if I didn't._

"_Grainne, darling...how are you?"_

"_What do you want?"_

_'Stepmother' number two. Number one had been nice enough. That was her downfall. She was just too nice for the club and didn't last more than a few months. This one had me dragged unwillingly through hell every time church was over. Whether it was the choir boys looking for cheap thrills, or one of the impossibly drunk hang-around types who didn't know what they were doing. It made me sick and I'd taken to sneaking the odd bottle of Jack that wouldn't be noticed to get me through evenings like this._

"_It's not me that matters. It's your darling cousin Marc that needs seeing to"_

"_Find someone else"  
_

_"Oh no, this is long overdue. Time you became a woman you insolent little bitch. Your mother was a Spanish whore. You're going to end up just like her"_

"_What if I don't want to"  
_

_"You don't have a choice. The apple never falls far from the tree, my dear"_

_She left him standing there, closing the door behind her, sitting in front of it. She'd bolted my windows shut so I couldn't get out that way. I was stuck with a psycho and a horny drunk looking at me like I was some piece of meat going for free._

"_Take your damn clothes off and get on with it"_

_Tears. Salt tracking down my face. I don't have a choice. The music would be too loud for anyone to hear me, not that anyone would be sober enough to help me. Why did she hate me so much? What had I done to her to make her hate me so much? She's given up waiting, I see that murderous glint in her eyes as she crosses the room, shaking me, telling me how stupid I am, how I'll never be anything other than this, stripping me off because I refuse to. Does this woman have no heart?_

_

* * *

_

"Roma, baby wake-up"

Someone was shaking me in this world. My face was tight and salty. Crap. I'd been crying again. Had I said anything whilst I was sleeping? My head was pounding and I hadn't drank that much...maybe it was just exhaustion. I had been working as many hours as I could just for a lack of anything else to do. Now these nightmares were back I wasn't sleeping that well either. Had I been crying over him? How fucking embarrassing. Could things get worse? What Biker wanted a woman with emotional baggage. They were the worst and no-one really wanted to have to deal with that sort of person. Clingy, over-the-top, needy pieces of shit. Was that what I had become? Maybe I'd been brainwashed into it. I'd been told enough times that it was how I would end up. Hell, I needed a drink and soon. By the sound of the music, party was still in full swing. Maybe now I'd got that horny ass heat out of us we could concentrate on what was going on out there.

"Are you OK?"

"Hmm, oh yeah. I'm fine"

"Really?"

"Really. Feel like getting a drink?"

If I could avoid talking about it then the truth would never come out. I was working too hard at making this work for it to go to the inferno now. This needed to work now or I'd never get out. I'd never get out of the MC world, but I could get out of my fathers home chapter and away from psychopathic stepmothers who wanted me dead for some unknown reason. I'd never quite figured it out. Still eyeing me with some suspicion, he seemed to be deciding on whether or not to pursue the issue, however me getting dressed seemed to make up his mind. I had a feeling that he'd be watching me more carefully from now on. It was the last thing I wanted, but if it stopped questions then it was worth it. Too many questions and I'd slip up, it was inevitable, however I needed to gain their trust before they knew everything.

"I don't believe you"

"You should do, I've not lied to you yet"

"Is that why you don't exist? I've tried every single database I could think of and there is no-one to match you. Yes, there are numerous Romana Bevans, but none have your history or your appearance. Then there's the lack of scarring...who are you really?"

"No-one, someone...anything the world wants me to be. Running from the past, forging a future from the present. Looking for freedom"

"Freedom ain't cheap"

"Sometimes you have to literally fight to be free"

"Who are you hiding from?"

"Snow White's Maleficent "

I wasn't waiting around for him to question that – I knew it was probably insanity to be walking around Charming with drunk bikers and hang arounds – not to mention the jealous whores. I knew I was being stupid, but he'd been asking too many questions. I couldn't leave though, I had things good here...or at least as good as they were going to get for me. What the hell did I do? Pushing past those who dared to get in my way, there were a couple of shouts over spilt drinks and a few more for me to hold on but why should I wait around? No, I'd get home and not bother leaving the house again, not until the morning. They could hammer at the doors and windows all they wanted but I wasn't going to let anyone in.

* * *

"What did you say to her Juice?"

Any attempt to get her stop had failed and on Chib's advice she'd been left to do whatever it was she needed to do. Sitting down again I sighed. How the hell was I meant to tell them that she'd practically confessed to not being who she'd said? It put Half-sack in a bad place as well for lying to cover for her. What I didn't get is what she'd meant by Snow White's Maleficent. I knew who Snow White was and the other bit was familiar...Christ, I needed to speak to someone with kids. Maybe Opie'd know, or Gemma.

"Just asked her about the scars. She flipped on me and walked off"

"That ain't a good start"

"I know...I'll go see her in the morning"

"Take her a...plant"

"A plant? Are you sure Prospect?"

"Yep...she loves pretty green things. Plants are always a cl...clever choice"

Jax shrugged his shoulders – poor thing was so drunk he could barely sit up. And Miriam...well, she was already down and out for the count. Maybe he just needed a drinking buddy rather than anything else. It was funny to watch though; he had no co-ordination and it was difficult to make head or tail of just what it was he was trying to say...but the general gist of it was there. A plant it was then. What was it with me and stuffing up? The failed drugging of that dog was the most recent – they hadn't trusted me since and so kept me to driving the van. It was easier than trusting me and letting me learn from making my own mistakes. Downing the shot I sat for a while, toying with my own private thoughts – Half Sack was gone and out of sight. I _had_ to know the truth. If not from her then it would come from him.

Leaving the glass on one side, I left headed in the same direction as he had. This was stupid, I'd admit that but at the moment it made sense. He had possibly been emptying his guts and was currently leaning against a wall, staring into space. He didn't seem to have noticed me yet and I needed him so spot me. Shifting my weight from one leg to the other, I hit that creaky bit of the floor and he looked over.

"Juice?"

"What's the truth? I know you've been covering for her. What's she got to hide?"

"A lot – she needs to tell you, not me. There's a reason she's running"

"And how do you know her?"

"Some fucked up link. Something along the lines of her adoptive father being fostered by my grandparents neighbours before being adopted by another couple who broke up and the mother ended up marrying my cousin or uncle or something like that but he moved to be with the man who adopted him"

"And why didn't you tell us that the first time round?"

"Because of who her father is"

"Who is he?"

"Not my place to say"

"If you don't say I'll put a bullet through your gut"

"You wouldn't"

"Wouldn't I? I may play the fool but I'm far from an idiot prospect"

"Fine, fine...man who adopted her is some big shot with the Hell's angels. She's the Grainne they were looking for when they came through nearly two months ago"

"Why's she running?"

"Step-mother number three wants her dead. Tried drugging her, slicing her wrists open, cutting the brake lines on her car, choked her...gone as far as setting fire to her bedroom. Twisted it to make it look like she's losing her mind and they're all either suicide attempts or genuine accidents. She's got a good reason to keep quiet"

"If well all knew we could help her more"

"You think the likes of Clay and Tig are going to want the daughter of a hells angel hanging around? They won't care if she's your old lady or not. They know and she's gone. We clear?"

"I'm still going to see her"

"You do that, but be careful with her"

* * *

Lights were off, but I knew she was still there. She walked a damn sight quicker than me and I hadn't bothered to ride here. Pausing at the door, I considered whether or not this was the best of ideas...but I couldn't leave this to get any worse. No-one answered at the first knock which wasn't too much of a surprise. The second knock caused a light to come on. But no movement – she may not want to see me, but I'd damn well sleep out here if I had to but I wasn't letting this go. Knocking again there was a twitch of the blinds but after that it went silent again. It went on like this for a while – possibly a good 10 or 15 minutes. I'd knock, call out every once in a while, get a small sign of life but nothing close to some sort of opening up. There was an eventual creak as the door opened. Tears and black lines streaked down tanned skin, god that woman would break his heart if he wasn't careful.

"I'm sorry...I was stupid, I know I shouldn't have-"

"Save it for someone who cares"

"I don't know what to say to make this better"

"Then don't...don't try and save me from whatever story you've created in that little head of yours"

"You mean the story you created? I don't care about the past. I want to help"

"You think you're the first to say that? Nobody can mean that"

"I can and I do"

"Then come back in the morning"

The door was shut in my face and the lock was turned, closing me out yet again. Christ, what was it that had left her so cold and difficult to reach? She wasn't the same person who'd warmed up and let me in. Had that been her or all an act?

* * *

Whiskey bottle was half empty and I felt like shit, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. I hated this - everywhere I went I was reminded of the past in one way or another and it hurt so much. I'd left the glass on the kitchen worktop having decided that it wasn't giving me that numbness quickly enough. I'd pay for this tomorrow but for now it was enough. I didn't want to remember - not again but it didn't help. He hadn't been the first to say he didn't care and he wanted to help. There had been a prospecting Pagan who had said it but it came back and bit him in the ass. Now he was six feet under and it was all my fault. How could I fight the waves of memories?

_"I swear baby - you, me and the open road. It's all we need"_

_"What about money?"_

_"We'll figure that out as we go. Leave tonight when no-one is watching the door. I'll be waiting in the usual spot"_

_"Promise?"_

_"You have my word lover"_

_He had promised and he had come. It hadn't been easy getting out, but there he was - free of any cut or markings. There was a burst of gunfire and red matted the blonde spilling from under his helmet as the flow grew, saoking the grey denim. The spray had caught me, forever staining that jacket and shirt. Eyes stared blankly at the sky - he'd gone. I didn't need any doctor to tell me that._

Tears were fresh - I didn't think I could cry any more. I'd never let any one work their way into me again but Juice was really trying me. It hurt too much to get close to anyone. Holding the rosary from that night, I knew I couldn't do anything to fight it. No-one could really care about someone like me. I was an easy lay. Always had been, always will be. She'd been right, that is my second step-mother who'd started all this, I was nothing more than a Spanish whore...just like my mother.

* * *

Playlist

Goo Goo Dolls – Let love in

30 Seconds to Mars - Saviour

Snow Patrol – The golden floor

The two lines: "_Freedom ain't cheap"  
"Sometimes you have to literally fight to be free"_

Comes from the hells angel quote: _Freedom ain't cheap, don't be a rat and sometimes you have to literally fight to be free_


	10. Soy la soñadora

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. See chapters 1-9. Last time I'm writing it, I'm sick of it and I think we all get it by now.  
_

_A/N: My biggest weakness in my writing is accents so I will make a polite request that you use that thing called an imagination whilst I figure out how to write out a Scottish accent. _

_Also, in regards to the season 2 finale...holy ******* shit. I did not see that coming. I'm going to have to rewrite the planned sequel to this, I had three chapters which now don't make any sense. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried and shouted at the computer screen...but how could you not? Poor thing, he was fast becoming one of my favourites. Yes, I'm trying very hard to not give away just who dies in case people haven't seen it - I only know about it because I've been watching it online.  
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* * *

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The knocking on my door pulled me out of my thoughts. All the different memories had decided to roll over me last night and hadn't given me any rest, driven me to the knifes edge of insanity . It was no point going the road of introspection though, it would serve me nothing but trouble in the long run. Instead I'd fallen on old faithful – whiskey, wine and smashing all the breakables lying around the house. First and foremost the mirrors – if the glass hadn't fallen out after being struck with my fist I'd end up pulling it apart. There was a dried streak of blood running down the one side of my face and little inflamed dots where I'd been struck and nicked by flying shards. The same shade of crimson coated my arms and hands – both of which were a complete mass of partly healed wounds that would split open with the slightest movement. My feet were in no better shape; I'd been walking over the shattered pieces all night in my bare feet just to feel something again. Anything to distract me from the inner maelstrom of my own shattered psyche. One night and all the defences I had built up over the years had caved. The dam was gone and nothing was left to protect me from myself and the mar of memories. It left me strangely numb though...I really should have some sort of emotion or sensation running through me, shouldn't I? Pain, hate, fear...anything but this blankness. It was such a...dull emptiness that it left me wanting to cry. Maybe it was the loss of emotion that I grieved for instead of the lost innocence I recalled with such terrifying clarity.

The door opened slightly, unaware that I was the one opening it. I did nothing to fight the two entering. Two? Why were there two...I thought only Juice had come last night. Dark eyes watched me...through the haze of the morning hang over I couldn't put my finger on the colour but the scarring and accent reminded me of the owner of those eyes.

"Christ lass, what happened in here?"

"There is purification in punishment"

Silence. It was similar to something both had once read but they couldn't be sure. I could see that in their eyes – Oscar Wilde. The Irishman had been a genius searching for a social revolution no where near maturity. A visionary and master of the last truly homoerotic Gothic novel ever written.

"Punishment for what love?"

"Staying too long in the flames, burnt myself"

"No more games love, need you to tell me why"

"I haven't played games in a long time Scot. Never had time for them – games are for the innocent"

"Aye? Feel like talking about where your time went?"

"Ask belle-mère and Marc. They know...she knows. He doesn't"

"Who is Marc?"

"Don't push her Juice. She'll tell us in time"

Yes, I'd tell them in time. I think the Scot got it – there was something in those eyes of his that left me trusting him. Moving away from them and back into the kitchen where the empty whiskey, vodka and rum bottles were – the only glass objects not lying on the floor in pieces. An empty smile unwillingly took a claim of my face...why did I smile? I had nothing to smile about. I should be crying...but the more pain I felt the more I smiled. I had stopped crying years ago; tears were a waste of my energy.

"I think we need to get these looked at love"

He indicated to the accidentally caused wounds. The result of shattered glass. Of my own drunken rage. Christ...why was I so pathetic? I knew what he meant when he said that they needed looking at. That meant hospitals...me and hospitals simply did not get on. We never had and we never would.

"No. Please, no"

"It's fine love, no-ones gonna hurt you"

"I can't go to a hospital"

"Why not. C'mon lass. I need to know"

"They'll find me and I'll not see another sunset"

Silence as the two men looked to each other, trying to figure out what could be done. I knew what was going through their heads; what the hell had gone on in the past to make me freak out so much? The Scotsman sighed, shaking his head. No...he couldn't do anything – the wounds people could see were there were treatable, but the ones underneath the surface, the ones scarring mind, heart and soul he wouldn't be able to touch. He'd say I needed help...they always did. Leaving me for a moment and dragging Juice away from sweeping the glass off of the floor, they left me in the silence once again.

* * *

"I can only do so much Juice. Sure as hell won't be that good with the stitches. Tara would be a better option"

"She's working today. Can you try?"

"I don't want to mess it up. She needs to see someone. I don't know why she won't go"

"She has a real dislike of hospitals. I wouldn't push it"

"Jean?"

It didn't matter how many times you told her, she'd only ever refer to me as Jean. It was almost like she couldn't call me Juice. She stood by the door, face still tear-stained and streaked with last nights make-up. She seemed so small and delicate this morning – I knew she was far from either of the two, but it was convincing. I doubted it was an act, but still...

"What is it doll?"

"Do you think I should go?"

"Probably...but I won't make you if you don't want to go"

"If you think I should go then I will"

So much trust in my opinion...it was strange, but a welcome change. Normally if it wasn't liked to security, my opinion didn't count for shit. However, she was taking it to heart and acting on it. Slipping past both myself and Chibs, she pulled a jacket off of the banister, slipping it over her shoulders and seemed to start looking for boots. It would be too painful for her to consider it, that and she could have shards or specks of glass in her feet.

"Don't worry about shoes...borrowed a car. Lost my keys last night and don't even think about walking over this again"

* * *

Shoes...I'd had them last night. I couldn't find them now, but I was interrupted. Arms wrapped around my waist, whispering into one ear and pulling me into a warmth that deep down I was longing for. Despite what I had grown up knowing, he made me doubt it all. He made me consider the idea that a man could be loyal to one woman. Some how....I didn't get it. One person could challenge every reality and scenario I'd ever known. How was that possible? There were fragments remaining in a mirror opposite me – I hadn't found the will to completely rid myself of it. The cracks were lined with the scarlet smear of blood. My blood. Through the mess I could see the outline of arms wrapped around me, face buried in the untamed mess. So many memories, so much pain...I just wanted to get rid of it all. To forget for just one small moment in time. But I knew I'd never forget, it'd stay with me until my dying day.

The pressure lifted from my feet only for a different kind to be found under my knees and gripping around my ribs and waist. He was carrying me? I didn't need carrying, I could walk. So why didn't I say something? Because burying myself in him was enough to ease the memories and fears that had been driving me to distraction. Giving up was easier than running...even if it was weak. The crunch of glass under boots and the weight of bodies filled the silent void that we had fallen into. Part of me wondered how much it would cost to replace all the broken objects (was it even worth replacing them?) and how long it would take to clear up after this little episode. How long would it be until the next one? Would there be another one? Was anyone going to let me be on my own after this? Probably not my darling Kipper, and no doubt Jean...Juice, which ever, would be that little more paranoid around me. So I'd hit a rough patch...didn't mean I was incapable of looking after myself...oh, who was I kidding? If it got me carried around by _my_ beautiful Rican with those liquid chocolate eyes, then who was I to complain? Fighting him was a losing battle - no doubt if I wanted to, I could kick his ass but my body would betray me and give in to anything he wanted to do with it. Lust was a damn powerful weapon and one that women gave into far too easily.

"Where are we going?"

"Hospital darlin', don't worry. 'M here for ya. Not goin' anywhere - not without me"

* * *

How long had I been sat here with a needle pulling together the torn fragments of skin? Hard to think that the skin was so like material in the way that it could be sewn together to hide any nasty little tears and holes. However, material didn't heal in the same way - that little collection of stitches would come out in two weeks or so and for a few weeks after that the skin would be tender and marked before fading. If I was lucky it wouldn't scar, if I was unlucky there would be a small livid scar stretching from one edge to the other, some fading in time, others would remain for life. A constant reminder of the story and events surrounding it's formation.

He'd sat with me, as he had promised but had slipped away at one point on seeing his blonde friend...Jax was it? Of course there was that reading of initial surprise, a glance over in my direction at the desk signing my soul away to the hospitals paper system. I hated the thought that no matter where I went, who I lived with or what I did there would always be a collection of paper about me. 1989 realised and no-one seemed to have to come to that conclusion yet. Well, those who had often found themselves locked away and out of sight so as to not spread the truth and cause disruption to the tamed sheep like masses. Always following a crowd, never paying attention to the truth that was staring them in the face. Their attention slipped away from me, returning to the reason behind the blondes sudden appearance here. There was a smile on both their faces, a hug and what I presumed was a congratulations. It was good to see such positivity in such dark times - they would try to hide it from me, but I could tell when a club was going through a rough patch. What with Bobby going down for murder recently and Opie just disappearing...any news was good news.

"What was that all about?"

"Abel's doing good...should be outta his toaster soon"

"Good, look I know you'll think I'm crazy but I need to get to San Joaquin"

"Mayan territory...why?"

"I know you think I'm crazy and I don't blame you but there's a good church out there. It's small, quiet, out of the way...and the Mayans respect it. We'll be safe there. I swear. I've been a few times for the odd occasion when I went to mass or confession, it's the only reason I know this"

"Why San Joaquin?"

"No Sons, no-one knows me or my face, language is less of an issue, culture is similar to my grandfathers. Reminds me of good parts of my past. It's a haven. Charming is nice, but sometimes I just find it too..."

"American?"

"For lack of a better expression, yeah. Some times I need a touch of the Latino culture to keep me sane. I dunno if you understand but it's me Juice and I need it, like you need the club. I can't ignore it forever, it'd drive me crazy"

"I get it...but you owe me for this"

"I'll pay you when we get back in any way you want"

"Any way I want, huh?"

"I said it didn't I? I'm a woman of my word"

"Get going then"

* * *

Smoke filled the almost silent air – only the occasional break of the clergy's chants and prayers. The air seemingly hummed with some unspoken power. The cool touch of the floor was enough to soothe me where nothing else would. Here I was at peace, though I had not really paid that much attention and would not be able to tell you much, there was something in the belief that there was _something_ out there that was comforting. This sanctuary was enough for me to gain a resemblance of my sanity. It was not an unusual sight to see bowed heads, bargaining for their souls immortality with some unseen and unknown force. The light drifted through the small stained glass windows and candles lit the rest of the room, casting a soft light over the smoke and giving life to the illuminations and congregations work. Old wood pews smelt of polish and people. I must have not long missed one of the services. I did not come for absolution – not yet. My sins were still too great, too innumerable and too painful in their manner for me to reveal. Some would argue that the pain was a necessity for me to progress. Not only had I wronged people, but I to had been wronged and needed to come to terms with that.

Soft Spanish tones filled the air around me in some otherworldly manner, questioning my tears. It was a second nature to reply, though I would not remember what I said upon leaving the building and conversation. To their question, I gave my own – why do any of us cry? Pain...yes, they were right. We cried for pain, for loss and rarely for joy. They questioned my pain but I just shook my head...I could not speak to another living person about it. Not yet. If not to a person, they reasoned, then to the holy mother. The Patroness of all humanity. I had to admit then that it had been so long that I had forgotten how I was supposed to pray. It came from the heart, they said, and nothing I said could be wrong...just go from the start and don' stop. No matter how great the pain, don't stop. Admitting to it was the hardest part. I was sure they had left me at the time, but I was not so sure by the end that I was completely alone.

Following their advice I went from my first memory and the pain hit me like a tonne of bricks. The emotional pain felt like it was splitting me in two, but through the tears the figure never wavered, nor did it flee, it didn't judge and I needed that. I needed someone – anyone – to remain with me the entire time and not judge. As much as I fought with myself to give in and say nothing more I knew I couldn't. I _needed_ this – all the pain, all the tears, all the distrust...everything pent up and stored away over the years. Every face burnt away in the flickering light, slowly burning lower. Slowly they were forgotten, along with which ever crime against me they had committed. It was only the start, but it was a good start. Slow, agonising but strangely relieving.

He'd been unsure about joining me in the first place, but rising he was sitting on one of the pews nearby, watching me with a certain degree of almost disturbing intent. I wasn't sure how much he'd heard or understood but he snapped out of his own daze as I passed him. No-one had entered of left the building since I began and the only other person in the building wore a Mayan cut. I had not been expecting it – the enemy of my lover setting me on the right path. Alvarez of all people...who would've thought that under all the perceived image of a cold, twisted, bitter old man there was a heart for the lost and broken? Nodding his head in my direction, he turned back to his previous fixation. If anyone would ever see that side again was a mystery.

"Ready?"

"I am now"

* * *

Play-list

Norah Jones – Carnival Town

Tarja – My little phoenix

Enya - La Soñadora


	11. We had no time to say goodbye

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. See all previous chapters._

_A/N: I am so sorry that it's been so long since my last update and sorry it's so short, but Christmas has had me very busy that and I've had a really major writers block. I promise I_'_ll update sooner, however to do that I_'_ll need a few more reviews. There are 16 people who have this on alert and 8 have favourited it...however, most of those have never reviewed - if you_'_re one of those people maybe you could review this time? Also, if you're one of the 100 who read and didn't review it would be nice to know what you thought of it, so if you read it this time could you please review?_

_Constructive criticism is welcome - just thought I'd point that out._

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**_Juice_**

Dawn was soft, dancing it's way over the skin of the sleeping form of the one sharing my bed. True, the make-up staining my pillowcase wasn't the most welcome of things, but knowing who had left it there put a smile on my face. it wasn't the only thing to make me smile though - there was the way those raven curls spilled over her still lightly tanned skin, like honey but richer and deeper by a tone or two. I knew behind those heavy eyes and long lashes hid eyes I could lose myself in time and again if I let myself. The sheets had slipped ever so slightly, revealing her soft curves and the bandaging - the only only physical blemish she had, but given time it would fade. I didn't know what was going through her head and I didn't want to push her - I wanted her to feel she could tell me what ever it was that was bothering her. I wanted her to tell me the truth about her - Ok, Kip had but I wanted to hear it from her. I wanted to know she trusted me with anything.

Shifting in her sleep, she rolled on to her stomach and complained ever so quietly. One hand came down from abpve her head to rub the one fully exposed eye. As funny as it was, I wasn't going to laugh as the smear of black mascara slid down her face with her hand. I don't know why she didn't take it off...then again, she didn't really get a chance to. Cracking one eye open she looked over at me and rolled her eyes before leaning up on one arm and pushing her hair out of her face.

"What are you looking at?"

"You...is that a crime?"

"Some mornings I wish it was, don't you have work?"

"Did you have to say that word? Yes, but I don't want to go when I could stay in the same bed as you"

"Well, soon enough this bed will be empty"

"But you're not working today"

"Yes I am, just I've got the evening shift instead of the morning shift"

"So I'm not going to see much of my old lady today?"

"Nope, but I'm sure you can cope. It's only one day, then I'm on a morning shifts again for the rest of the week so I'll be free again. Think you can last?"

"I don't want to, but if I have to"

Sliding the sheet off, she wandered into the bathroom, leaving me to listen to the sound of water sloshing around in a bowl. She may not yet be able to get away with a shower, but she was too proud to go with out a wash at the very least. After what felt like a lifetime, though in truth it was probably little more than 10 minutes, if that, she came back through and sat on the bed with her back to me. I wanted to pull her back in to the bed and keep her there for the rest of the day, but I had work as did she. Glancing back over her shoulder, I knew she was smiling to herself.

"You gonna get dressed or not? You're already late, aren't you?"

"Not quite yet, don't want to yet"

"We all have to do things we don't want to. Get dressed or I'll change the locks and not let you back in"

"You wouldn't be that mean...would you?"

"Oh, wouldn't I?"

She had the teasing edge to her voice as she slipped on the first piece of clothing she came across that wasn't going to press too much. here was something different this morning though. She seemed so world weary, so weighed down for someone so young. I didn't know what it was that was bothering her this morning, but something was dragging her back into silence more often than not. With a sigh, I rolled off the bed and dressed. For the most part she kept her back to me fighting with the knotted curls, trying to pull them back under her control. What I was most scared off was her tearing clumps out or making her scalp bleed. I'd seen enough of her blood for years - I didn't want to see it again. Shrugging my cut on, I moved over the bed and took the brush from her grasp sensing her growing agitation.

"Let me, no good you getting all wound up over this"

With a sigh, she relinquished her pride and let me take over. She didn't like anyone doing anything for her - I'd figured that one out quick enough. Her biggest problem was that she was starting at the roots instead of the tips so it was getting almost impossibly tangled about half way down. Despite not having that much hair of my own, I'd got enough practice in at this sort of thing when I was younger. They'd tear me apart if they knew, but I actually found this kind of relaxing and I probably wouldn't ever voice it, but the whole hairdressing route had a little appeal in it. The club would rip me a new one and never let me live it down so that one was never getting aired. I think it was the repetitiveness of the task - the predictability and rhythm that got built up. Cool hands touched mine, taking the brush after a length of time - I hadn't really been paying attention.

"You need to go to work, I'll be fine"

"Promise?"

"I swear on my mother's grave. Happy?"

"No, but it'll do...for now"

"I'll call you before I leave for work, just so you know I'm still alive"

"You do know we need to talk about the other night"

Placing the brush down, she went almost too quiet as she tied her hair back. She tilted her head back and to the one side, she placed her hands on my arms as they snaked around her waist. Her skin was always so soft under the pressure of lips. Slackening her grip, she moved my arms off her and smiled.

"We will, just not yet. Not today"

"You're not alone, you know that...don't you?"

"Yeah...I know, but just not today"

I made a noise in agreement before leaving her. I would have to break a few speed limits to get to work on time, but I wasn't going to be late. Not today, not again. I knew certain people (who will remain nameless) were still pretty pissy over the once I'd been late last week and I wasn't looking for a repeat of that. Plus, I didn't really want to be made to clean that damn 'office' space again. It was fine - a little chaotic perhaps, but I worked best in organised chaos.

**_~0~O~0~_**

**_Romana_**

Hours had passed and I was still in agony, but that couldn't be helped. I was glad however that I'd had the sense of mind to order some sort of entertainment for when I was on my own during the day. Just so happened that it was a piano that would've been cut up and put to one side to either be sold or used for something else. It'd been delivered earlier in the day and I wasn't sure of the last time the piano had been played, but it was ever so slightly out of tune suggesting that it had been a while. I probably should have been bored mindless without Juice, but I was glad of the peace for once. I didn't really know why I'd always been so drawn to the piano - it was the only instrument to ever make any sense to me. An even greater mystery was the song I played. I was not usually a fan of playing anything other than classical pieces, but for once I didn't want to play anything predictable. Nothing seemed to match my mood and little could get me to settle for more than a few moments. I didn't really know why I was so bored, only that I was and it was killing me. No work today, Juice was christ knows where and not answering his cell, actually they all seemed to have disappeared into thin air. I'd have to get a tuner out to sort it, but it felt good to have a piano in my own home again.

Opening the windows in a vain attempt to get the air flowing, I settled at the piano once again. I couldn't seem to get this one song out of my head. I didn't know what it was called, but it was achingly familiar. Something reminiscent of the mid 80's rock scene, but I still couldn't place it no matter how hard I tried. Closing the lid, I let the silence fill the room once again. What came next I was not expecting.

"Still not figured that one out Grainne?"

The voice was one that brought back waves of dread. I didn't want to turn and look, but I had to. Rising from the seat, but keeping my head down I worked my gaze up. Battered leathers head to toe. Familiar cut. Greying, but still mostly red hair hanging in that very short braid. Lines were heavier and more obvious. They'd aged considerably in the few short months since I last saw them. How did I not hear the bike coming? I should know that sound any where. Grabbing the nearest heavy object, I half raised it, letting that inner beast that so many feared to the surface.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Easy kid. I'm not going to hurt you"

"I'm not a kid, haven't been for a long time"

"True. True. Let's talk about this calmly - put that down and this'll go on the ground where neither of us can reach it. Fair deal?"

Opening the cut, he placed the gun down on the coffee table and sat down without permission. Eyeing him suspiciously, I followed suit by placing the object down (a vase as it later turned out) and sitting opposite them. Now more than ever I wanted Juice home with me. Glancing out the window just beyond his head I noted one empty bike and another two occupied having an unspoken pissing match with the neighbours, sat quietly unbothered in their Angel's cuts, despite being in a rival's town. _Shit. The neighbours could say something. Jax, Juice, Kip...any body could turn up at any moment. How the hell am I going to explain this?_ Flickering back to the uninvited guest, they had clearly spotted my discomfort and had that glint that suggested they were going to use it to their full advantage.

"Grainne, when are you coming home?"

"I am home"

"Rich. You belong back in New York, not here. What's here for you? C'mon girl. Why'd you leave?"

"You all know why I left - you just refuse to believe me. I have plenty going for me here; Jobs, my own place, freedom, family, friends, J...just every thing I could ever need"

"What were you going to say - don't lie to me, you never stutter. What else you got here?"

"Nothing"

"You're lying. Look me in the eyes and tell me who it is"

There was that subtle sharpness to their voice that scared me. He was one of the reasons I left - or at least this side of him. His grip had found my wrist and pulled it to him in a painful manner, tightening as he did. As much as I didn't want to, I couldn't help the tumble of a sole tear tracking its way almost merrily down my face. No, I wasn't going to be a victim any more, I wouldn't put up with this shit any longer. I'd taken it for long enough and wasn't about to let it continue. _Suck it up Grainne, it's now or never. Grow a pair and control your own damn life._ Blinking back the tears that threatened to betray and gathering what strength I could, I pulled their hand counting on them to drag me in further. And being the idiot they were, they played right into my hands. Twisting me round and pinning my arms at my side with one arm, they tried to muffle the high pitched shriek that I let out with their spare hand. That was my aim - make as much damn noise as I could and tear a chunk out of their hand when they tried to silence me. Clamping down hard, I felt the almost comforting snap of his skin splitting under the pressure and the taste of unfamiliar blood filling my mouth.

Cursing, he let me go in surprise and I slipped away into the garage, locking the door that linked the two sections as I went. I found myself for the first time in a long while praising my mothers god that I'd gone for the automatic door that started to rise as I fixed my helmet and slipped my feet into the nearest pair of boots I could find. I think the hired muscle must have thought we were coming out that way as they were still relaxing on their bikes as I tore away and the yells for me to get back faded out. They'd come after me, I knew they would. But where was safe? Mayan's would turn their back on me if those three kept close. I couldn't bring this shit to the Sons, they had enough going on as it was. Nords wouldn't want some dirty skinned quarter latino running to them, not that I would any way. Niners didn't know me, no matter how well they knew the Sons (even if they claimed they didn't). I'd have to run again and keep going until I couldn't go any more. The only other option I had was the church...but that was deep in Mayan territory since some power shift they I hadn't really paid much attention to. Of course, I could always just go with them, but that meant going back to her and I'd sooner put a bullet through my own head.

All that was real at the moment was the roar of the engine below me and the road surface hazy with midday heat. Fighting all better judgement, I found myself taking the road to that little church. It was a blur of a journey with the odd flash of Mayan cuts as I slowed inside town and city boundaries. I didn't know if I had the gas to make it all the way there and I sure as hell didn't have the money to fill up. I was convinced they were still behind me just as the machine started to complian - I was running on fumes and had to lose them. Thing was though, I'd lose myself in these streets. I didn't know them at all.

Ditching the bike, boots and helmet I found myself once again thanking that god of my mother that these were mindless fools following me in the local latino capital. I'd lose them easy enough, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get home easily. I'd have to walk - there was no other way. Dodging and weaving, I didn't dare to stop until I hit a quieter street higher up from where I had been. Glancing back as I slipped into a back alley I spotted them - lily white in a sea of brown. Sighing, I took a moment to regain my breath before slipping out of the alley and wandering through the streets in search of a way back to Charming.

I knew I'd been wandering a long time when the sun started to dip lower, almost blinding me and the shops started to shut up. This had been hopeless. I was stranded in a strange city, with three hells angels trailing me, with not a dime to my name and a bike dumped somewhere. To make the evening far more perfect there was a rumble over head shortly followed by a flash of light and thunder clap. The rain came not long after, slicking down the clothes I had been wearing. If it hadn't been see through before then it was now. Not to mentioned totally ruined. Rain water would stain it for good.

Stepping into the road, not bothering to check, I didn't notice the lights and blaring of the car horn until it was too late. I felt the crunch of glass shattering against skin and bone. There was shouting and the sound of people talking on phones. Rolling to a stop having flown off of the car and back onto the road, I felt hands and an accent I didn't think I'd ever hear again. The voice came wih a hint of leather, tobacco and whiskey. The presence was domineering, but rapidly fading.

"Grey?"

"Da?"

"Aye, feckin eejit whatcha doin in the road? Stay with me girl"

35 years in the states and still as Irish as ever. The touch of those familiar, calloused hands evoked his face from whilst my mother was still around; happy, smiling and so youthful despite what he'd already seen. He'd tuck me in every night and read me a story...provided he wasn't out on run. The sandy brown hair that was forever in a ponytail - a short one, but still a ponytail that I had always loved to play with when I was younger. His Irish white skin that almost glowed in the winters sunlight and inside light. He never tanned, only ever burnt. That was my Da, different but the same man as my father...my father was the bastard who married women who wanted me dead. Despite how much I wanted to see his face and couldn't fight the black. I could hear his voice and wanted to stay with him, but despite how hard I fought I just couldn't do it. Last thing I heard was the break in his voice, his begging for me to stay awake and the rush of worried Spanish cutting into the embrace.

* * *

Play-list

Bullet for my Valentine - Road to nowhere

Within Temptation - Our farewell

Hinder - Running in the rain


End file.
